Dawn of the Mother Night: Part 1: Daughter of Skadi
by KeldaZevsdaughter
Summary: There's old magic at work in Norway, far more than anyone's realized. The prophecy's set in motion. Time's running out. Thirteen years of solitude have elapsed and Elsa's to be crowned queen. It's a day of new beginnings, lies, and forbidden love. But dark forces rise. Ragnarok is coming. Long live the queen. T for violence. Christian themes (CURRENTLY BEING EDITED. UPDATE SOON)
1. Prologue: Eatnemen Vuelie

"_She was very beautiful and dainty, but made of ice… her eyes sparkled like two stars, but there was no rest or peace in them."_

_-Hans Christian Anderson, "The Snow Queen"_

Prologue: Eatnemen Vuelie

The queen's breath billowed out in transparent puffs of mist as she slowly clambered through the snowy wood. A crease appeared between her brows as the exertion of her journey took its toll. Clutching her round belly as the babe inside kicked in protest at the unevenness of her weary footfalls, she stopped to lean back against a slim, silvery tree. Panting. Sweat trickled down her neck, seeping into the collar of the woolen dress despite the shivers that racked her thin frame. Her teeth chattered ceaselessly.

Why hadn't she worn her cloak? The worn fabric of her lavender gown and the thin outer robe clasped over her plump stomach did little to keep out the bitter cold. Her skirt was plastered to her legs where the snow had melted through and a slow, numbing burn was taking over her extremities.

"Foolish." She muttered under her breath. "Foolish, foolish girl."

She worried for her child, her precious, first born. She should have known better than to wander this far from the castle without her husband, especially this close to the infant's birth. Especially knowing what the townspeople said about a child born in winter. A nervous panic slithered across her chest.

She had to get back.

Brushing her loose, chocolate brown hair from her damp forehead she looked around, discouraged to see only an endless stretch forest cloaked in the deafening silence of night. Moonlight refracted off the millions of tiny crystals blanketing the ground, giving the earth an almost otherworldly glow. Wrapping her arms around her in a desperate attempt to warm herself, the queen was struck by a sudden feeling that she didn't quite belong here. That she trespassed in a realm that was not quite her own.

And that the grave infraction would have terrible consequences.

The chill that ran from the tip of her spine to her nearly numb toes had nothing to do with frigid wind swirling around, urging her to go while the guardians of this realm might still grant her amnesty. While there was still strength in her limbs to carry them both-

Snap!

A crack, the overloud breaking of a brittle twig caused her to clap a hand over her mouth before a startled scream escaped her lips. _Adgar. _Her thoughts flashed to that of her husband, far too young to become a widower. Her unborn daughter, too innocent to die without seeing the light of day. Heart scaling her throat, the queen whirled around, sure that she was about to be devoured by a snarling beast and-

Her eyes, as clear a blue as a midmorning sky off the fjord, widened in shock.

For what stood before her was not a fanged monster.

It was a girl.

A young, wisp of a girl, no more then eleven, with a solemn grey gaze and hair as black and sleek as a raven's wing. She stood no more than four paces away, garbed in only a sleeveless white gown, the lacy hem fluttering around her bare feet. Surrounded by a pool of gentle yellow light that bathed her creamy features in warmth. Like light streaming from Heaven, beckoning her closer.

For a moment, the queen could only stare at the bizarre apparition before her. At the glimmering sheen shining from the child's skin. At the spectrum of soft, muted colors spiraling around her, ever shifting and flickering. Confused, she wondered if the was an angel, a cherub. Was…was she dead? The thought didn't send the scrabbling fear she'd always imagined it would, all those years of sickness that left her body frail and unworthy to carry a child. Perhaps it was the warmth across her skin, or the calming presence from the glow. She only felt sadness for the baby inside of her.

But finally, when the girl said nothing, so unlike the narratives in her worn Bible where angels proudly proclaimed their messages, and there was no clap of thunder or pillars of fire and smoke, it dawned on her, and she was relieved.

"This isn't real." She said, almost to herself. "It's just a dream." But even as she said it, part of her knew she was wrong. Dreams never felt this real, this alive. No, this was something different.

The girl merely blinked. The color pulsed a tranquil shade of frosty periwinkle.

"Yes, Your Majesty Queen Idun." Her voice was as delicate as the clinking together of glass phials. Her tiny feet twisted and disappeared under the gauzy cloud of her dress as she dipped into a flawless curtsy. She rose slowly. "This is a dream. But that doesn't make it any less real. A dream is but a gateway to the mind. I have finally found you and your daughter."

Idun's eyebrows furrowed as she watched the child, placing her hand over her own. Her babe had settled into a contented slumber.

"Who are you?"

A faint smile passed the girl's lips. She lifted her chin, speaking with obvious pride. The light changed to a dusty rose.

"I am Sapphira, daughter of Heimdall and a Watcher of the Guardians of Asgard. I come bearing a message for you Queen Idun. The ancient prophecy is soon to come to pass."

Shaking her head in confusion, Idun shifted her weight, wincing as the baby put pressure on her tailbone.

"The ancient- no, it can't be. Forgive me, I don't understand. Who are the Guardians of Asgard?"

Sapphira stared at her in disbelief, as though she hadn't heard the queen correctly, her aura becoming a muddled brown.

"You mean you don't know? They warned me we had been reduced to little more than legend in your lands, but I never thought-" Her deep gray eyes wavered and she looked down to her feet and her dimming light, seeming to mourn for a brief moment, before she jerked her head up, a determined expression overtaking her fine features. Flickering around her were the gold and orange hues of a raging fire.

"I apologize, Your Majesty. I thought you would know. I must speak quickly then. The Vanir have been watching us closely and their descendants of Loki have obscured you for so long. You should be lucky your mind is so strong, or I would have never found you. Even so we have very little time until their Watchers find us." The fear that shone in Sapphira's bright eyes infected Idun and she stepped back, away from the silver tree, her boots crunching through the dense snow.

"What do you-?"

"There's no time to explain. What's important is that you know you carry a daughter of Skadi, Mistress of Winter and Lady of the Frost." A configuration of violent crimson erupted around Sapphira, stretching outward before the girl made a strange gesture and the lights once again tightened to her body. Her expression caused Idun to flinch. No child should ever where the face of a warrior, and yet, this little girl looked as if she'd led armies.

Pointing an accusing finger at Idun's protruding belly, Sapphira's eyes hardened briefly with angry and sorrow. She took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself, and then continued in her deceptively sweet voice. Black strands of aura snaked around her.

"Your child will born with the powers of ice and snow. She will be the most powerful sorceress born since Skadi herself walked this Earth. Her life will be fraught with heartache and peril. It is because of her that the prophecy will come to pass-"

"No! Not my daughter, I beg of you!"

Idun couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream at the girl, call her a liar, but something deep, deep within her heart knew that the girl spoke the truth.

God had failed her.

_How could you?_

The ancient prophecy circled through her head like crows swarming rotting carrion. Everyone knew the prophecy, from the most withered crone to the youngest child. They had been taught to fear it, to hunt down and destroy anything that lead to it. Thus was the terror of the Prophecy of Ragnorok. The lines swirled through her head from back when she and every other child her age had been required to know it by heart.

_Princess born with the powers of Snow, _

_Sisters forsaken and kingdoms splinter,_

_Princess born with the power of Spinners,_

_Two kingdoms plunge to Eternal Winter._

_One shall weave a way though the dark,_

_One shall bow to the Queen of Ice,_

_A ruler with a Frozen Heart,_

_Shall be your kingdom's sacrifice._

_Tread carefully, oh lands of North!_

_Mother pass the tale to your daughter,_

_For if you forget and set Her free,_

_Your people will end in mindless slaughter._

_Beware she born of Winter's breath,_

_But praise she born under the never night sky,_

_For Princess of the North shall never disown you,_

_But through Her dark art, your land will die._

_But fear not, stand tall, you pure of heart, _

_Whose strength is found in the God of the Cross,_

_Fear not, stand tall, when Hellfire burns,_

_When the Prince breaks free; the world to spurn._

_Fear not, stand tall, when the mirror splinters,_

_And Frigg's chosen champion is lost to winter,_

_Fear not, stand tall, when the Snow Queen strikes,_

_With fractured soul and heart of ice._

_For in darkest hour, _

_In bleakest night,_

_When you're too weak to rise,_

_And too broken to fight,_

_When up is down and down is up,_

_And summer is winter eternally wrought,_

_When Asgard falls and Van'heim stands,_

_And chaos unleashed throughout your land,_

_When two Queens rise from bloodline split,_

_And the spark of rebellion is finally lit,_

_When the majyk of old has been awoken,_

_And the love of sisters is tried whole and unbroken,_

Nine descendants, despite all odds,

Will rise up, and yet, of nine,

Eight will fall,

Unless, and only if,

_You remember the price that He once gave,_

_And highest price one freely gives,_

_So darkness will die,_

_So light will live._

_If past wrongs cannot be made right,_

_And Æsir fails at Vanir's game,_

_Then at the dawn of Frigg's eternal night,_

_One Princess shall perish to Snow or to Flame._

_The fate of the world upon you lays,_

_The fate to heal,_

_Or the fate to raze._

Tears gathered in Idun's eyes, spilling over her cheeks. Her breathing became fast and hysterical. A soft cry burst from her mouth and she doubled over, a thin wail rising from her throat.

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't happen! All her fears, her waking terrors, her nightmares were coming true. They had been so, so careful. They had done everything right. Everything to make sure that their child wouldn't be born cursed with magic and sorcery like – Idun shook her head violently. She'd sworn never to speak, never to think her name again, as if that would make all the difference in the world.

And yet, her daughter, despite everything was to be born in the dead of winter.

A time where no child should ever be born.

Sinking to the ground, collapsing in the snow, she shoved a hand through her long hair, looking to the girl with wide, pleading eyes.

"There has to be another way." Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft and strained it fell into the frost-ridden air. "Please. My sweet child, she can't-" Idun choked on her words. "She can't be the one in the prophecy. She's supposed to be safe. They promised me she would be safe!

"He promised." She whimpered. "How could he do this to me?"

Her voice broke as she gave into quiet sobs, her vision blurring with hot tears that burned her frozen cheeks. When they cleared she saw the child had back away into the silver trees. Sapphira regarded her with a look of hopelessness, a look that should have been far too heavy for her youthful face to bear.

"I'm sorry Queen Idun." Her small voice could have held all the sweetness in the world, but to Idun it only resembled the earsplitting screech of an off-key violin. She sank deeper into the snow, pressing her frostbitten hands into her ears as Sapphira spoke. "Fate chooses its players but only once. It never makes a mistake and never takes back a choice. Every child of the Norns knows that."

"No." Idun moaned, weeping inconsolably. "No. Not my child. Anyone but my child-"

"Idun!?"A deep masculine voice was shouting somewhere beyond the glade. Her husband! He was coming to rescue her. He would make this right. He must! The queen gasped and looked up. Sapphira was gone and the forest had gone dark, as though the moon had been snuffed out like a candle.

The sky shattered.

The ground gave way beneath her.

She was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

"Idun! Please wake up. It's just a dream."

Her eyes snapped open to those of her husband's, pale and green and gentle and wide with concern. She felt his strong hands running down her shaking arms and brushing her hair from her face with light, tender gestures. Smoothing the knitted blanket over her lap and easing her back into the downy chair she'd chosen to take a nap in. Then careful, careful fingers caressed her pregnant belly as her husband pressed his lips to her temple, his long, dear, crooked nose tracing her cheek, now dry and rosy in the light of the fire's glow illuminating her study.

"What was it darling?" A look of fear suddenly flashed across his handsome face. "Is it the baby?" Idun stared at him, unable to speak. How could she tell him their daughter was the feared, wicked sorceress of the prophecy? After they'd gone to so many midwives and soothsayers who assured them that their charms would ensure the princess's safety. What more could they have done? How did a common mortal defy fate and destiny?

No, she couldn't tell him. No one could know. They would demand her death. She had to protect her. Despite what the prophecy said, she knew better. The child she carried was not a monster. She was good and kind and perfect. Her little joy.

Her little Elsa.

Forcing a hesitant smile to her lips, Idun took Adgar's hands, kissing each finger in turn.

"She is doing just fine." The queen said a moment later. "It was just like you said. Only a dream. A silly, meaningless dream."


	2. Chapter 1: A Series of Doors

Chapter One: A Series of Doors

_[Twenty-one years later…]_

With a whining, gurgling creak, the white and blue patterned door at the end of the corridor edged open with a series of painfully slow nudges. Dainty hands, covered with gloves made of worn white leather, appeared clutching the edge of the door as a young woman nervously peered out from her room. The long hall, still cast in azure from pre-dawn light filtering through towering windows, was very much empty. Tilting her head to the side, she closed her eyes and listened…

And was greeted by the silence of morning.

Sucking in a deep breath, Elsa gave the door another push and darted out, a hand wavering on the knob as she rose to her tiptoes and glanced both ways down the hall. No servants, no guards, no friends, no sister.

Even on the morning of her coronation, not a soul would enter the West Wing before the first rays of sun fell across the mountains that surrounded their tiny kingdom. This time of day was hers and hers alone.

_ And that time is running out._ She reminded herself, biting her lip and pushing away from the doorframe.

In a few short hours the palace would be flooded. Townspeople, parliamentary members, representatives and royalty from the neighboring kingdoms, not to mention the multitude of servants and palace guards Parliament insisted be there to provide the utmost comfort for their guests. Likely they were used to living with luxuries and riches the lowly castle of Arendelle couldn't offer.

This would be the last time in a jumbled procession of months that she would be free.

Well, as free as someone like her could ever be.

Elsa twined her fingers together, setting off at a brisk pace, boots soundless across the faded red carpet running the length of the corridor. Keeping to the shadows and grimacing at the creaks and moans that were customary to the old castle.

When she was first locked away, those creaks and moans had haunted her. The palace staff, eight of her parent's most trusted servants, had been firmly instructed never to enter the West Wing; a command easily obeyed. The West Wing was the oldest part of the palace, shrouded, dreary, and rundown. Leaks sprang from the ceiling and odd drafts wafted through the vacant chambers – the latter being no one's fault but her own. Decades had long since passed since had last been in regular use.

It had become a sanctuary that belonged solely to the eldest princess. A prison that came with a forever view of mountains and glorious sunsets that set them ablaze. Where she was sheltered; hidden from the world and its raised brows and prying eyes.

Safe.

Almost.

Anna, Kristoff, and Marius could never accept that she was gone. Separated by a mere key, a bolted door, and Elsa's sheer determination that she would never hurt them again.

As a child, the creaks and moans meant that somebody, probably Marius, had picked the lock and her three dearest friends were running through the twisting maze of corridors that was the West Wing. At first Elsa had found it unnerving to hear laughter flooding the abandoned rooms.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd found it in herself to laugh. Now, she was sure she'd forgotten how.

The creaks and moans turn to pounding and begging as they reached her door.

Anna would ask if she wanted to play any one of the innumerable games that came to her mind. Tag in the gardens, racing bicycles around the halls, swimming in the fjord – it didn't matter how foolhardy it sounded; Anna was up for anything at all. In winter it was always building snowmen, though she always added that it didn't have to be a snowman if Elsa wanted to build something different. Like what about a snow unicorn?

Kristoff, so shy and sweet back then, would leave her little gifts of wildflowers and sparkly stones from the forest, quietly recounting the adventures of his reindeer calf and how much the creature missed her. He even went as far as to promise to let her ride Sven around the gardens, an offer not to be taken lightly, and one that often caused vehement protests to erupt from Anna and Marius.

And Marius…two years her senior, the only son of General Wilhelm Thorn, commander of Arendelle's small, elite army, Marius was hands down the leader of the trio's covert operations. Confident, reckless, charismatic, dauntless, Marius was the kind of boy who sauntered instead of walked, charmed his way into the gruffest of demeanors and had trained the world into eating right from the palm of his hand. Particularly those amongst the female population.

Elsa sighed as a guilty flush flooded her cheeks, and she turned away from the window, not wanting to over analyze the strange expression crossing her face.

_The female population indeed._

There was a time when she would have answered their pleas, voice harsh, so foreign she could have sworn it came from someone else. Someone cold and miserable. But when she'd look to the window – as she did now, watching threads of pale gold play along the dark pines leading to the mountains – and glimpsed her own reflection, sharp with angles and pale as the moon, she couldn't deny that person was her. The irony was cruel and bitter. That all her friendships required a door as a mediator. Silence was easier, reminding Elsa that while she was no longer confined to her room, not technically, she was still very much alone.

For as the years passed, slowly, slowly, the schemes to break her from her self-imposed solitary confinement came less often, and the creaks and moans were stifled into silence. Perhaps in the face of failure they had given up. Or maybe the naïve hope of childhood had suddenly lost its luster.

Anna soon made friends among the daughters of Parliament. She was good at that; making friends and keeping them.

Kristoff inherited the position of Royal Stable Master when his adopted grandfather, Josef Bjorgman, grew too old to care for the horses and herd of reindeer.

Marius trained. And trained and trained and trained. For hours, weeks, months, years, she'd watched him from her window. Watched him practice under the cover of darkness, ugly cuts and bruises marring his chest, silent tears reflected in the torchlight.

No one else saw what she did. No one could have. It was her secret to keep and Elsa had long since buried it deep within her heart.

Eventually his training paid off. Three years ago, after his tour of Europe and before their fated trip to the Kingdom of Corona for their niece's wedding, her parents had given Marius the honor of being named her personal bodyguard, despite her pleading not to waste the already strained castle finances on the premise that as heir to the throne, her life could be in _mortal peril_. But Elsa knew better than to believe that. What her parents really wanted was someone completely loyal to the future queen, someone who wouldn't be "swayed by the whims of Parliament", as Father often put it. And he'd chosen well. Captain Marius Thorn was nothing if not loyal.

That of course didn't change the fact that he had, unintentionally, succeeded in breaking the heart of nearly every girl in Arendelle the previous month with the news of his engagement to Lady Iulia, the beautiful, talented daughter of Prime Minister Fenrir.

_Of all the spoiled, selfish, petty, deceitful, gossiping, subjugating –_

The temperature of the corridor plummeted with the sudden surge of anger slashing through her mind.

Elsa cringed, biting her lip in admonishment for losing control of her so carefully guarded emotions.

"C-conceal it, don't feel it," her voice trembled, even in its reprimand, barely a wisp. "You have to learn to control yourself. You're not a child anymore who can go run and hide in her room when things don't go her way. You are to be crowned queen today. It's time you started acting like it."

Which could be difficult seeing as Lady Iulia and her father were so easy to ha – No. Not hate. Dislike. A queen should never hate her subjects; she merely preferred some over others.

Such things weren't her concern anyway. Who did she care who Marius married? She didn't. Truly, she didn't. Except as a friend she wanted him to be…well, happy. He, more than anyone, deserved to be happy, and she knew that Lady Iulia did not have it in her shriveled up heart to –

A particularly loud squeak from the wobbly floorboard at the end of the hall made Elsa freeze, partially hidden in the drapery, hand clutching at the delicate silver chain hanging from her neck. She swallowed hard, pressing against the cool window, caught up in the rush of her thoughts

If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted she was absolutely petrified. There was so much that could go wrong today, today of all days.

But that was not acceptable. A queen did not reign cowering in terror of her people. No, a queen must be calm, and poised and controlled. If necessary she was to look pretty on her country's currency. Remember to smile. Above all else she must accept her duty without hesitation. She was strong. She was steady. She was clever. She was brave. Emotionless, save for the love of her people. Even if that love was misplaced.

Even if that love was for a people who would kill her if they ever found out what she really was.

Some people claimed that a girl couldn't keep a secret. Tell a girl a secret, and you tell the town, the old saying went. Surely she would be overcome by the need to gossip, to titter behind gloved hands sooner or later. They would never know how wrong they were. Thirteen years was a long time and Elsa knew more about keeping secrets than anyone.

But this was irrelevant.

So the twisting of her stomach was simply a nervous flutter. This was normal. Anybody would be nervous today. The dull ache at the base of her skull was nothing more than the effects of her insomnia. All those weeks of sleepless nights finally taking their toll. She wasn't a scared little girl hiding behind a curtain in the most deserted corridor of her own palace. She was – she was –

_A queen_.

A gorgeous, charming, elegant queen. She wasn't wearing the loose, prim day dress, worn and frayed and dyed black the day of her parent's funeral, a color that made her skin look as ghostly a white as phantom spirit. Instead she wore a shimmering gown of pale turquoise, the color of frost on the mountains and winter skies. One that would mesmerize anyone who saw her. She didn't believe in silly prophecies. She wasn't cursed with the powers of winter. No. She was enchanting. She was breathtaking. She was –

Still hiding behind a curtain.

Sighing softly as her fantasy dissolved, Elsa brushed aside the sun bleached drapery and risked a glance up and down the adjacent hall. The only inhabitant was a tiny white mouse with oversized, velveteen ears sitting on a cob webbed candelabrum in a dazed stupor. At one with the spiders. Smiling softly, Elsa shook her head and hurried over to him.

"Rupert," she chastised the creature, scooping him up in her gloved hands and setting him on the ground near the wall. "Don't be foolish. You mustn't come out today. It's too dangerous. Lady Iulia and her ladies-in-waiting will have a fit if they see you – they'll think the entire West Wing is riddled with vermin – and I couldn't bear if any harm came to you because you haven't the sense to stay put."

His whiskered twitched. Looking to the arching window at the end of the passage, Elsa frowned, the familiar feeling of nervousness skittering down her back.

She was running out of time.

"Just hang in there little guy. I'll be back soon," she whispered, backing away. Rupert lifted his fuzzy nose and scampered after her, letting out a high, indignant squeak. Elsa pursed her lips and tried to shoo him off, but he was not to be deterred in his mission.

Finally, with another sigh, she allowed him to crawl into her cupped hands and carefully nestled him in her pocket, where at last he settled contentedly. Rupert was an odd creature, living completely at ease with the presence of humans and seemed to be positively enamored with her.

Unafraid of her witchcraft and sorcery.

But then he was a mouse. Perhaps his mind was too feeble to recognize a monstrosity when he saw it.

Approaching the colossal double doors to the East Wing of the palace, Elsa gave pause, her hand stalled in the pocket where she kept her keys. She braced herself against the torrent of memories that followed every time she entered the opposite halls, and jammed the key into the lock, giving it a violent twist.

Click.

The sharp noise of gears releasing made her jump, and she stalled for a moment before withdrawing the key and jerking the knob to life. Like her own door, the hinges let out a grinding squeal. Elsa's breath hung stagnant in her lungs, heart hammering in her ears. While she could be reasonably sure no one would be traversing the West Wing, due to her orders that no one was to disturb her before eight and the general decrepit state of the halls, the East Wing was an entirely different matter.

Had someone heard the traitorous door?

She'd been told the extra servants and guards would be arriving at seven and it was almost half passed six. Knowing she was being exceeding foolish, but needing this last moment of escape, Elsa ducked through the gap for the first time in three years.

Brows furrowed deep in confusion, Elsa frowned, glanced back at the doors to the West Wing and gave the main hall a double take.

Her first thought was that she didn't know her own palace anymore. She was like a wayward spirit from the Nordic myths she used to read. A phantom that had drifted away from her homeland for so long that when she returned, a millennium had flittered by and everything had changed.

The second was that Parliament clearly expected her to forge a marriage alliance.

Because, qualified as they were, their housekeeper Mrs. Himmler and her eldest daughter Liesel couldn't have possibly remade the threadbare hall runners with ones finely woven with traditional Norwegian designs.

Or repainted the walls to that their red and gold patterns would glow when the polished sconces were lit.

Or replaced the curtains. Once so washed out by centuries of sunlight were now a stately deep crimson held back by braided tassels. The high, arcing ceiling had been scoured of cobwebs. The hardwood floors gleamed and somehow were rid of any scuff marks childhood had trust upon them.

Elsa gingerly made her way down the corridor, taking care not to disturb the finery she was by no means accustomed to. The royal family hadn't always been poor; when her mother was a girl it had been one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Scandinavia. But the eruption of the 1st Karlskro-Arendellise War when Elsa was a baby, and the 2nd Karlskro-Arendellise War when she was barely seven, had struck hard on their economy and everyone but Parliament suffered the damaging effects.

Rupert wriggled in her pocket and when Elsa looked down, she saw he too was admiring all the pretty things.

But pretty things always came a price.

Less than ten years later, relations were still strained with the Swedish kingdom of Karlskrona and Arendelle was in massive debt to the Southern Isles, their strongest monetary ally in the war. The debate in Parliament concerning whom Elsa should appease by marriage had been going on for years.

If she married Prince Lennart Guđbrandr of Karlskrona she would ensure a forever peace treaty. Never again would Arendelle face the threat of war with Sweden.

But if she married Prince Hans Westergærd of the Southern Isles their debt would be cleared. Their economy could finally begin to rebuild. Her people wouldn't be struggling to make it through the long Norwegian winters.

Prince Lennart was next in line for the throne. The extent of her rule would span over two countries.

Prince Hans was thirteenth. He had everything to gain from the alliance and she everything to lose.

Lennart was more than twice her age. Forty-eight to be exact. Rumored to have gotten his sister's lady-in-waiting with child.

Twice.

Though he wisely denied all accusations with the tongue of a natural born liar. Elsa had no idea what he looked like, though the reports from Parliament were by no means flattering.

Hans on the other hand was a mere six years older, devilishly handsome according to Lady Iulia and her 'handmaidens,' and was pure as the noonday sun.

Hence the debate waged on.

Lord Fenrir's missive read that he would inform her when Parliament had come to a decision. That had been two weeks ago. Elsa knew the answer was coming today. Which meant that if the letter came this morning, or worse, when she saw Lord Fenrir at the ball that evening, she'd have only a few short hours, a few short minutes to gather her courage. Because it didn't matter what Parliament decided. It wouldn't have mattered if she had wanted to marry one of the princes, which she didn't. It didn't even matter that her heart had belonged to another for fifteen years, though he would never know. It didn't matter that she longed for children, but would never experience the joy of motherhood. It didn't matter what she wanted.

Her answer to every offer must always be no. She could never marry.

To do so would be suicide.

Suddenly pulled from her thoughts, Elsa's feet faltered in front of a large white door patterned with stylized green leaves and magenta blooms.

For a long moment she simply stared, reaching out to trace the vines, touching the tips of her fingers to the painted wood before jerking her hand away, wishing for the millionth times things were different. She and Anna could have been like the sisters in that nonsensical fairy tale she filled her head with as a little girl. Sisters who were inseparable. Who shared in each other's victories and mourned each other's sorrows. Who stayed up late under the covers whispering secrets and giggling over the boys they liked and scheming to get their attention. Who did each other's hair and borrowed each other's clothes and argued about the most ridiculous things in the world.

"'_There was once a poor widow who lived in a cottage'_… that's how it went didn't it Rupert?" Elsa murmured, glancing down at the mouse. He cocked his head, watching her expectantly. Elsa raised her brows a little, the corner of her mouth lifting in an almost smile, continuing. "_'__And in front of the cottage there was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one which bore white roses and the other red._

"'_She also had two children who were like those two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white and the other Rose-red. They were good and happy and busy and cheerful, as ever two sisters in the world could be. _

"'_Only Snow-white was quieter and gentler than Rose-red. Rose-red like nothing better than to run about in the fields, seeking flowers and catching butterflies. But Snow-white sat at home_.'" Elsa sank her teeth to her bottom lip, "locked away in her room because she was a sorceress and a danger to her sister."

Fairytales were a collection a lies in pretty packaging. Elsa learned the truth the day she'd so stupidly shown Anna, Kristoff, and Marius her powers. When none of them knew enough to care about that stupid, stupid prophecy.

_Princess born with the powers of snow, _

_Two sisters forsaken, two kingdoms splintered,_

_Princess born with the powers of light,_

_Two kingdoms fall to eternal winter..._

Hugging her arms around her waist and jerking her gaze away, Elsa turned and walked passed Anna's door without looking back. The looming stress of the day was already dredging up old sentimentalities and memories she'd rather keep hidden. She couldn't change the past and it wasn't wise thinking about all the things she could have done, but didn't when she was already facing the most critical moment of her life.

Elsa move hurriedly through the palace after that. She glided down the grand spiral staircase with quick steps, rails freshly oiled and slick under her gloves.

_Anna will be pleased._

Her sister had always loved to slide. To Elsa though… all she could think about was Lord Fenrir's self-satisfied sneer. She didn't stop to admire the new green and violet silk banners bearing the Arendellise crest; a stylized, golden crocus that symbolized strength and perseverance. For if a crocus was strong enough to burst through the frozen ground in the first weeks of spring after being ravaged for months on end of cold, snow, and darkness, how much more could their little kingdom rise to greatness after being ravaged by war and famine?

Nor did she slow her pace as she cut through the hall of paintings, being the shortest route to the ballroom, only able to think about the tradition Parliament would insist she uphold. The one that required her to dance with the respective representatives from the neighboring countries. The thought made her nauseous, not because she didn't like dancing, or didn't know how, or did so poorly. It was because that even through the long sleeves of her mother's coronation gown and the new black gloves she'd purchased for the occasion, she knew they would be able to feel just how cold she was. And just how closely the chill that remained ever circling in her blood resembled that of a corpse. An ever present reminder that there was something not quite right with her.

That she was unnatural.

Elsa grimaced. No, she mustn't let anyone touch her.

"Liesel, that's not fair! _I_ want to be Princess Elsa. You always get to be Princess Elsa!"

Stumbling, hand slapping over her mouth, Elsa whipped her head around, looking for the source of the high-pitched whine. The air grew so cold it practically crackled with ice. She squinted down the dim corridor, pressing into the wall.

"Me too! Me too! Wanna be pwincess Ella too!"

Someone, she thought the first speaker, sighed dramatically.

"Not Ella, Brigitte. Elsa. With an s. And you can't be Elsa. You're not old enough."

"Wanna be pwincess El-LAH!"

"Well, you can't! Liesel please, just this once. I promise to do it right."

The ballroom.

She remembered how voices used to echo there in the early morning… Elsa crept forward, curious, hands running along the wall. The grand double doors were open wide, though the speakers weren't in view. She recognized them now, Disa Himmler's five children.

"No Gisela," a calm, measured voice was replying, Liesel perhaps. "I'm the eldest, so I get to be Elsa. Stefan is Prince Hans. Gisela, you're Anna. Nyamph can –

"Wait, wait? Prince Hans?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on there just a second. I'm not being Prince Hans. I want to be Marius. Then I can hit people with my sword!" A young boy's voice piped into the argument, making swooshing noises that Elsa guessed were supposed to represent the unsheathing and swinging around of said weapon. "Plus he's strong and brave. Who cares about some stupid prince? I bet he doesn't even know how to use a sword. Not like Marius. He gets to protect the princess like a real man! Why should I be Prince Hans?"

"A pwince, a pwince, a pwince." Little Brigitte began to twirl in circles as she sang. "A pwince!"

As she peeked around into the vast expanse of ballroom, still hidden in the shadows, Elsa's bit back a giggle; her lips began to curl in an unexpected –

Wait, why was she smiling?

The tallest of the five children, a pretty girl with dark curly hair gathered under a head kerchief folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at who was presumably her brother, judging by the ruffled mass of matching brown curls and full, freckled cheeks flushed with indignation.

"Of course the prince can use a sword Stef." Liesel snapped. "He's a _prince._"

"A pwince!" Chirped the youngest sister, bouncing on her toes.

Rolling her eyes and huffing as if her siblings were the epitome of her troubles, Liesel continued. "You have to be Prince Hans because I'm Princess Elsa and the princess has to dance with the prince because she has to fall in love with him and marry him. She can't dance with Marius because he's in love with Lady Iulia – that's your part Nya, oh would you stop sucking your thumb? It's not ladylike at all." This she aimed at a young girl who possessed large brown eyes not unlike an owl's. "Now everyone stop arguing before Mamma get's here and we won't be able to play."

All this was said in a great rush of air and when she'd finished, a smug smile showed on her face. Elsa couldn't help the sharp breath that left her, though it went unnoticed by the arguing children. The beginnings of her own smile drooped with her shoulders. Was it true? Did Marius…could he –

_Of course it's true. They're _engaged.

"I don't _want_ to play if I have to be Prince _Hansel._" Stefan's voice turned nasally, impish glee brimming in his smirk. "And I don't want to dance with you either. Real men don't dance." He declared. A muscle twitched in Liesel's jaw.

"His name is not Hansel! And what about Marius and Kristoff? They know how to dance and you don't say anything about them." Stefan simply shrugged, casually reaching into his pocket and retrieving a glossy red apple. He gave it a toss before catching it in one hand and taking a huge bite with obvious relish, juice dribbling down his chin. Gisela gasped, her chubby cheeks thinning as her jaw dropped.

"Where did you get that?"

"The world will never know." Her brother replied mysteriously around a mouthful of fruit.

"Pwince, pwince, pwince, pwince…"

Elsa pressed her fingers to her lips, trying not to grin.

Stefan looked up at Liesel. "Marius and Kristoff are two exceptions that prove the rule."

"You don't even know what that expression means Stefan!" The eldest sister steamed, hands fisting at her sides. They were toe to toe, faces so close their noses were touching.

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Pwince –"

"Be quiet Brigitte!" Gisela buried her head in Nyamph's shoulder, who stopped sucking her thumb long enough to pat her hair. "You're giving me a headache."

"DO NOT!"

"DO –"

"Children!" Elsa's heart stop for exactly three beats and her fingers once again twined into her necklace, the chain cutting mercilessly into her skin despite her gloves. Her breathing quickened and she stepped back until she smacked into the wall. Why did people find the need to speak so loudly?

Rubbing her bruised hip, she peered back into the ballroom. The plump form of Royal Housekeeper Disa Himmler stood in the opposing threshold, hands on her hips and usual cheerful eyes in slits.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Himmler fumed, marching forward and yanking her two children apart before any more damage was wrought. They instantly fell into line with the others, sheepishly studying there shoes. She pinched her nose, taking a deep breath. "I ask you to go to the ballroom after breakfast, and wait there _quietly_ so I can issue your final tasks for the day, and what do I find? Four of you making a ruckus, waking half the castle! It's coronation day for heaven's sake and if even one thing is out of place, so help me I'll confine you to the castle until you're all thirty!"

Stefan tentatively raised a finger, perhaps too frightened to raise his full hand. "What Stefan?" Disa said, thoroughly exasperated. The young boy brightened.

"Would we only be confined until we each turned thirty, or when Brigitte turns thirty, cuz that's not very fair if you ask–"

"Stefan Johannes Himmler, you get out of my sight and go help your cousin in the stables this instance!" Disa bellowed, swatting his behind. Cackling, Stefan ran for the double doors. Her double doors. Elsa's eyes went wide and she stumbled backwards and tried to dart into one the spare rooms lining the hall. What if she hurt –

"Who the heck are – Princess _Elsa_?!"

Heart caught like a stopper in her throat, Elsa slowly turned, drawing in a breath, and offered the gaping boy a practiced smile. _Conceal, conceal, conceal._

"Hello, Stefan." She said softly, regally, circling her arms around her waist, tucking her hands under her elbows. The boy continued to stare, his mouth sputtering like a fish out of water. Shifting uncomfortably between her boots, Elsa bit her lip, "I hope I didn't, um –"

"Whoa! Princess Elsa! This is so cool! I can't believe it's you! We were just talking about you!"

"Princess Elsa?" Three voices chimed in unison, and suddenly the corridor was full of four girls staring up at her in what she could only describe as rapt adoration. Disa hurried to the doors, pausing mid-step when her shocked gaze found Elsa's.

"Good lord in heaven child, I barely recognized you. You've been gone for so long." A film of tears caused the housekeeper's eyes to go as bright as her smile. "And now here you are, all grown up, as beautiful as your mother when she was your age. And here I'd been deceived into thinking it was Anna who's grown up looking like the Missus, but it was you all along." Disa placed her hand over her chest, "Bless this heart child; you're the spitting image of an angel. Your parents would have been ever so proud to see you like this. You'll be the belle of the ball tonight. All the young men will be just dying to dance with you."

Elsa's grip around her waist tightened. Those words, those kind, motherly words that she'd longed for, for years were all lies. Her parents would have been horrified at how strong her magic had become in the last three years, the last month. They wouldn't be proud of her, no.

They would fear her even more.

"H-hello Mrs. Himmler, Liesel, Gisela, Nyamph, Brigitte." Her knees shook as she nodded to each girl in turn. The joy that emanated from their glowing faces was almost blinding.

"You know our names!" Grasping Nyamph's hands, Gisela spun the beaming girl in a circle, the two of them giggling uncontrollably. "Princess Elsa knows my name! Princess Elsa knows my name!" She near sang with glee. Elsa resisted the urge to run. How could possibly have this effect on people?

"Gisela," Liesel hissed, dipping into a wobbly curtsy. "It's an honor to meet you Your Highness. Please excuse my –"

"I wuv you Pwincess Ella!" came a voice at her feet, and without warning, two chubby arms where flung around her knees, and a warm face nuzzled into her legs. Elsa went completely still, not daring to breathe, transported back to another time, another place.

* * *

_Four children, snowy, golden, tawny, strawberry laughing, shrieking, shushing, racing down the moonlit stairs, the darkened halls to reach their destination. _

_Their special place. _

_A nimble flick of her fingers, a twirl of her wrists. Snowflakes drift charmingly from the ceiling. A sweep of her arms, a wave of her hands. A familiar misshapen snowman appears. _

_Golden shyly supplies a crooked carrot. _

_Tawny draws two lumps of coal from his sleeves, his smile so warm when he looks at her. _

_The girl with strawberry tails giggles and waves about twin branches._

_She crouches behind her creation, grasping the sticks her sister had handed her. Dropping her voice an octave, she gives one a little shake and rumbles,_

"_Hi I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs." The younger girl clasps her hands together. Beaming. She rushes forward, throwing her arms out to engulf them both._

"_I wuv you Olav!" _

_Four children, snowy, golden, strawberry, tawny, giggling, whispering, huffing, collapsing around the snowman, arms around each other._

"_We'll never leave each other," the eldest declares, looking at her. She grins, a warm fluttery bit in her stomach._

"_Never." They all shared in the magic. The warm fluttery bit. "Never." She repeats, gazing back at him with worshipful eyes. _

"_Not as long as we live."_

* * *

Gasping, Elsa jerked away from the child's embrace, a hand at her necklace before she'd thought the motion through. The temperature in the corridor was steadily dropping. Ice was encircling her arms beneath her dress. Her shoulders stiffened. _Control. Yourself. Elsa._

Mrs. Himmler flushed, stooping down to pick up her youngest, rambling.

"Princess Elsa, I am so sorry. You'll have to forgive the child. She's young and forgets her place. It won't happen again." She gave her child a little shake. "Brigitte, what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself? That was very inappropriate. What were you think – "

"No." Elsa interrupted her, conjuring up another false smile. The tone of the corridor lightened instantly. "Please, it's not her fault. I… I was merely startled, that's all. No harm done." She lowered her hands until they were once again hidden. "If you'll excuse me I – I need to go."

"Yes, of course Your Highness. You must get ready for your coronation dearie." Disa gave Brigitte a comforting pat before clapping her hands expectantly. "Children, how do you say good-bye to your future queen?"

The younger girls peered at each other in bewilderment. Liesel sighed at her sister's ignorance and gave another sweeping curtsy, this one less shaky than the first.

"Such a pleasure Your Highness."

Stefan dipped at the waist, flourishing one arm in a flamboyant bow. Finally, holding hands with their mother, Gisela, Nyamph, and Brigitte followed in suite.

"It was so nice to meet you Princess Elsa!" Gisela gushed as Elsa turned away. Pausing, she looked back at the children and their frazzled mother.

"It was lovely to meet you too Gisela. Good… good day."

Four paces. Five. Six. She willed herself into taking slow, graceful steps down the remainder of the hallway, despite the nervousness prickling in her chest.

"Princess Elsa?" Not flinching was just one of her many feats of the day thus far. "I think you're the bestest, wonderfulest, most beautifulest princess in the entire world!"

Had she known how to laugh she would have. Instead her mouth parted. A strange noise bubbled up from her throat.

"Gisela, that's enough. I swear you children make enough noise to wake the dead. Show some respect. Now into the ballroom with the lot of you. All of you."

"But you said –"

"_All _of you Stefan!"

Never had the closing of doors sounded as wonderful as they did now.

Elsa sagged in relief as she turned the corner, retrieving the squirming mouse from her pocket and stroking his ears to calm him from their traumatic experience.

"Shh, Shh," she whispered, giving him a gentle kiss on the nose. "It's alright. We made it."

Rupert sneezed. Pressing her mouth to his fur once more, Elsa slipped him into her pocket, muttering.

"Come on, let's go."

Elsa hastened down the corridor leading to the royal studies. Like everywhere else it was decorated with the almost pretentious frippery and smelled strongly of lye soap. Her posture wilted. There was a time it had smelled of chocolate and krumkake and old, musty books.

Peeking into the spare offices, the doors had been left wide open to air, Elsa was reminded that Parliament expected, at least Lord Fenrir expected, to use the castle as there "means of relation" with Arendelle. It was technically in her power to deny the request, but matters of decorum demanded she do just the opposite. While she didn't overly mind sharing space with Lord Ohm or Lord Næss, the younger, more radical members of Parliament, the thought of seeing Lord Fenrir and his wandering eyes on a day to day basis made her skin crawl with goose bumps.

Finally, finally, passed velvet window settees, under the frescoed ceiling, she reached the stately doors at the end. Fumbling with her key ring, Elsa pressed her trembling lips together. Her throat seemed to constrict and she was suddenly only able to breathe in short, thin gulps. Rupert made a high whistling sound from her pocket. Elsa forced a noise that was on the verge of being a laugh, though it sounded sharp and harsh to her own ears.

"You're right, I'm just being silly. Th-this is ridiculous." She muttered. Casting a wary glance over her shoulder she jammed the key in to the lock, shaking so hard she had to try several times before her grip caught the handle. Then, gently, she pushed.

The doors glided open. Unlike her own and the door to the West Wing, it did so soundlessly, without a single squawk. Her lips dipped into a disappointed frown. Her mother's door had always seemed to whisper. Drawing in a deep breath, Elsa lurched into Queen Idun's study, swiftly shutting the doors behind her.

At least here, Mrs. Himmler and Liesel had left well enough alone, though perhaps a dusting had been conducted over the last three years, a polishing of the enormous bookshelves, a beating out of the Persian carpet, a wiping down of the piano. The deep plum curtains were still worn and sun-bleached. The lavender and violet patterned sofa dotted with tea stains. Deftly she pulled the gloves from her hands, sliding them across the worn, but angel soft brocade. If she pretended, made believe it was Mother who sat at the desk instead of the vacant chair, she could just smell it. The fragrance that always surrounded Mother. Of rose perfume, and lemon cake, and old books, and chocolate candies.

The smell would mingle and entwine around the scent of peppermint sticks, oranges, black ink, and pipe smoke as Father appeared at the door. Mother would pause and look up from her novel, a quiet blush finding her cheeks.

And they would smile like they alone were the only people who existed in the world –

Blossoms of frost unfurled on the indigo carpet like mountain flowers in springtime. Elsa was immediately on her knees scrubbing the ice away with her palms, praying it would dissolve into nothingness. Lacy white bits clung to her sleeves, and she let out a little squeak, rivaling Rupert's dulcet tones, before she broke them away, chanting rapidly under her breathe.

"Conceal-don't-feel-conceal-don't-feel-don't-let-it-show-fear-will-destroy-you-control-it-no-emotions-no-one-can-know." Rupert scrabbled from her pocket as the temperature dropped into something below freezing, squealing as he shot across the scuffed floorboards. Guilty, Elsa looked away. She could have just turned her little friend into a block of solid ice, and for what?

But she'd warned him this would happen. Perhaps he'd finally understand how dangerous she was.

Biting down hard into her lip, Elsa shut her heart away from the memories. She yanked her gloves back on, slowly spinning in a circle, looking for the wardrobe.

There.

She walked to the simple wardrobe at the side of Mother's desk, moved here from her personal chambers on Elsa's orders. Swinging the doors open with a tug, her eyes were drawn the tumbling satin of her mother's coronation gown and robe. Elsa knelt and hugged it to her chest. She dipped her nose into the silky fabric and inhaled deeply, tears gathering in her eyes when she caught the faintest trace of roses.

Releasing the bodice and digging deeper, passed lovely dresses that had gone out of style five years ago, she found it. A small, intricately carved box painted in all shades of purple, her mother's favorite color. Elsa flipped the lid open, nearly dropping the box when a fast paced tune of a village folk song burst into the quiet. Eyes wide, she snapped it shut.

_Breathe. It's alright. You were just…startled. Nothing to fear. Nothing to –_

A great clanging suddenly filled the palace as chapel clock struck seven. Elsa gasped aloud, bolting upright. In seconds, she'd gathered the dress and robe into her arms, music box and it's treasure bundled between layers of satin.

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid idiot!" She hissed. "Rupert!" A weight clambered up the backs of her skirts, diving into pocket. Sidling around furniture and tripping over a kink in the rug, Elsa threw opens the doors, a split-second overview confirming the passages abandonment. Struggling with her load, Elsa sent a prayer heavenward she wouldn't be discovered – again – and did the most unladylike thing possible in that moment.

She picked up her feet and ran.

[A/N:Welcome to Dawn of the Mother Night (DOTMN): Part One of Five *glances upward* What in the word have I gotten myself into? Madness, I tell you. Madness in its purest form. I already apologized for disappearing on my profile and it's bad posture to continuing doing so, so let's skip that and get to the good stuff. But first, a word to you, oh reader. Thank you kindly for reading. And for those of you who've reviewed, you have my eternal gratitude. Sorry, that was kinda sarcastic wasn't it? Really, I appreciate it. Truly, I do. Anywho, this is specifically to WinterKnight2104. The gods and goddesses mentioned in the prophecy are Heimdall, Dagr, Skadi, Loki, and Frigg (Frigga). Heimdall was the watchmen of the Æsir (Gods from Asgard) and guarded the rainbow bridge that connected the 9 realms. Dagr was the god of day and sunlight. Skadi was the goddess of winter, etc. She was also a giantess who chose to live high up in the mountains instead of with her husband (oh, the irony) Loki was the trickster of the god and powers included magical illusions, etc. Not affiliated with evil, but tends to act in his own interest. Frigg was the wife of Odin. Hope that helps, but research will give you more in-depth answers. And finally, finally, because I'm such a dork, I like compiling lists of songs that give me ideas and inspiration for my stories. I don't know, it makes me feel good to give credit and I have a special place in my heart for making lists. They bring me much, much happiness *beams dreamily*

So this is what I have so far for DOTMN. The list will continue to grow as the story progresses.

The Lost Get Found by Britt Nicole

Diana by One Direction covered by The George Twins (Not particularly fond of the band, but love this cover of the song. The dancer looks like Elsa!)

Demons by Imagine Dragons covered by Boyce Avenue

Start Over by Royal Tailor

Beautiful Ending by Barlow Girl

Never Alone by Barlow Girl

Other Guys by Jonny Diaz (This is basically Marius in a song ;) )

Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift (Personally I enjoyed her music up to the album Red. After that…)

You Belong with Me by Taylor Swift (For that glorious Elsa-Marius-Iulia mess of things)

Ready To Be Myself by David Dunn

Luck by David Dunn (It might be the sappiest love song you've ever heard, but I've been called a hopeless romantic so... Marius again)

You Got Me Good by David Dunn (Sorry. More sappiness. Couldn't resist. Hehe Marius)

The Call by Regina Spektor

Oh My Dear by Tenth Avenue North

Dark Horses by Switchfoot

Rise by Skillet

Whispers in the Dark by Skillet

You Are More by Tenth Avenue North

Healing Begins by Tenth Avenue North

Not Gonna Die by Skillet

I'm done now. I apologize for those of you who thought this was a legit chapter two, but lucky for you, it's just me. Auf Wiedersehen.]


	3. Chapter 2: Song of a Caged Bird

Chapter Two: Song of a Caged Bird

Having wandered into the world of dreams and fantasies, the princess found herself dancing with the prince of the frost trolls. The ballroom was pleasantly chilled and sparkled with silvery moonlight streaming from up above. She grinned, watching it dapple over her deep emerald grown as she spun, furling and unfurling.

Furling and unfurling

It was just like she'd always imagined.

Only, he looked nothing like she thought a frost troll would. He was tall for one, towering above her so that the top of her head – piled hair excluded –only came to the middle of his brawny chest.

His very brawny, very_ human_ chest.

She was instantly curious, giddy energy making her bound through the waltz they danced. The prince, _her prince, _was human?! Just wait until she told Heidi, Klara, and Margrethe!

The princess tilted her head back to say something to his face – obviously his face. What else was she supposed to talk to? Not his chest. A chest didn't talk back. Unless you counted his heart. The steady bub-bump, bub-bump, bub-bump. He probably had a very nice heart too, if the lines of his muscles beneath his silken dress shirt were anything to go by – and her light, blue-green eyes widened, her heart-shaped mouth forming a silent O.

"You should probably close your mouth." Kristoff suggested, twirling her in a circle. She dipped under his arms, still gaping at him like an addle-brained idiot. "Wouldn't want to catch flies."

"_Kristoff?_" Anna sputtered, peering up at him in wonder, for the first time noticing how his dark blonde hair glinted metallic in the cool light of the brilliant crystal chandeliers overhead. She'd never seen him look so handsome, so different from the usual rugged, unshaven –

"What are _you_ doing here? You're not supposed to be here." Dang it, did she ever think before she spoke? "What I mean is that I'm glad you're here, but you're not supposed to be _here_ here. Dancing. With me. Not that you're bad dancer – you're actually really good. How did you – never mind. That doesn't matter. Wait, how did you even get here –" Her nose wrinkled as it caught an unfamiliar whiff of…was that? No, it couldn't be.

"Uh, Kristoff?" She asked carefully, resisting the urge to bury her face into his chest. That would be weird. But he smelled quite good. Incredible. "Are you wearing…_cologne?_"

"Uh Anna?" Anna scowled at his perfect imitation of her voice. "Are you going to get to the _point? _Cuz now would be a good time. The dance is almost over and Elsa's gonna be ending the party soon."

"But I that's not fair! I just got here and," she'd have crossed her arms if they hadn't been occupied with holding on to Kristoff, "and _you_ didn't answer my quest– Right. The point!" Why was she suddenly so nervous? This was Kristoff. Her friend. Her _best _friend. There was nothing weird between them. Nothing at all.

Then what were the sparks running up and down her spine from where his hand dwarfed her waist at the small of her back. What was – nope. She wasn't going to over think this. Clearly the apprehension of meeting her prince, her _real_ prince, and forever true love was going to her head.

"So. Anna. The point of this conversation?"

Anna snapped out her introspection, rolling her eyes.

"It's just, I'm supposed to be dancing with my prince and, no offense Kristoff, but you're not exactly a prince. Not that you don't look like a prince – you look absolutely gorgeous. I –" Her rambling lips halted and, blinking rapidly, Anna felt her cheeks grow pink. "Wait, what?"

_Anna, what was that?!_

Now she'd done it. Now she'd ruined the dance. Kristoff's cheeks flushed bright red, except he was also smiling. His honey brown eyes softening from their usual brusqueness.

"Really? You think so?" He said, rather smug.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that– well, actually I –"

The clocks suddenly tolled all at once and someone from behind called her name.

"Princess Anna?"

Kristoff vanished, in his place a snowman.

"Hi!" The lumpy white figure clapped his arms er…branches…together. Right. "I'm Olaf!"

"O-Olaf?" Oh, what was going on?

A herd of sheep proceeded to march into the ball room.

Dressed in her mother's pearls.

What?

"Anna? I mean, uh – Princess Anna?"

Mellow snores escaped the girl's gaping mouth as she was drawn into reality like cool water from a well. Raised arm cradling her head, limp and tangled in a rat's nest of hair. Drool slopping from her mouth and rolling down her cheek and forming a damp patch on her fluffy pink pillow.

A succession of three sharp raps from elsewhere.

"Princess Anna?"

"Hu-unnh?" She groaned, aware of the atrocious light beyond her eyelids. "Yeah, coming Kristoff. Wait…wait for me." Muttering incoherently, sluggishly rolling over, Anna shoved her sagging body upward, suspended between her arms of pudding, sitting, but slowly sinking into the fluffiness of her mattress. Miscellaneous quilts, rosy, mossy, buttery, tangled around her legs.

_Mmmmm. So warm…_ Her eyes remained glued shut. Too heavy, too thick.

"Uh Princess Anna?"

"Yeah?" Cocking her head to the side she wondered aloud, "Kai? Oh, ImeanMisterBjorgoman…" Anna's words slurred together as she swiped at a tress of hair caught in her mouth, spitting the clinging strands from her tongue. "Good morning." She let her head fall back and beamed blindly at the ceiling. She'd always liked Kristoff's father. Such a darling man. Just like his wonderful son…

"Um…good morning…? And uh, no ma'am. I'm not Mr. Bjorgoman. Now if you –"

"Oh. Hi! I'm Anna. And I like warm…warm," her chin dropped to her chest, "…hugs. Wh-what's your name?" New people. She liked meeting new people. They were so… _new_.

"Uh, Peder, miss –ma'am – I ah mean Peder Rasmus. Mr. Rasmus. Er, I'm so sorry to wake you but –"

"No no no no." Her hand slowly dropped, swabbing the collar of her nightgown. Yawning, she drooped forward, nesting her cheek in her palm. "I've been up for hours." The warm dark fuzziness deepened and the world drifted away as she approached the shores of sleep. Squinting, she could just make out her boat, bobbing merrily in the waves. She waved to her friends swimming about in the water that lapped deliciously cool at her bare toes. Closer and closer and –

Her head slipped, thunking into her kneecaps. Straight as a ramrod, if only for a moment, Anna jolted upward, a startled snort abruptly ending her snore.

"Who is it?!" Why was it so _early?_

A prolonged silence before…

"Ur, uh it's still me. Ma'am." Eyelids fluttering, she scrubbed the heels of her palms into her cheeks, her eyes, pulling her shoulder's back – joints popping – Mmmmm. That felt good.

"The gates will open soon." Stretching her arms into her mass of waves, pulling her fingers through.

"It's time to get ready."

"Oh right, of course. It's… it's time to get ready." Her arms fell back to the mattress and her shoulders slouched, determined to send her back to the boat and its kindly old ferry man. They always had the nicest of conversations.

And yet, Anna was curious. Nothing new ever happened around here. Tilting her ear towards the door, Anna asked,

"Ready for what?"

"Your sister's coronation?" Peder's stammering voice was upturned in question. Should she know this? She thought she should. Someone surely must have said something about this. Didn't they? She was almost certain they did.

"My sister's _c-coneration_…" Losing hope that she'd be returning to the island of dreams, Anna opened her eyes, just enough to bear up against the sunshine. The light was – well, it was actually quite lovely, cheerful and yellow – but not at this time of –

The thought fizzled out as her gaze fell upon the most beautiful ball gown she'd ever seen. Black bodice, trim with gold cording, embroidered with deep pink and emerald. Swooping pine green sleeves, trimmed with lace. And the skirt – oh, the skirt – full, gloriously full and long and sweeping and perfect for spinning. Ebony satin polonaise drawn back in flounces, revealing an underskirt striped with a pretty olive and the palest sea foam green. Patterned with little sprigs of cherry.

_Coronation…_

Anna gasped, eyes snapping wide, and a little zing barreling though her limbs.

"It's coronation day!" Throwing her blankets back she flew from the mattress, springs in her toes and that fluttery bit in her heart. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! It's coronation day!"

She raced to the window, tossing the fuchsia shades aside, and pressed her nose into the glass, grinning wide. It was perfect, absolutely, positively perfect. Sun-streaming, birds-singing, people – actual real live people! – perfect!

Anna squealed, giving a little jump, a glissade, a pirouette with a little too much bounce. She stumbled, somehow managing to regain her feet by sinking into a plié.

"Whoa, whoa, okay." Clutching the sill she whispered, "Calm down there Anna. You have to be graceful today. Like a lady. So uh –" She relaxed her giddy smile into a serene expression, threw her shoulders back and sashayed over to her mirror. "Commencing serious, elegant princess…now!"

She hadn't meant to. Really. The unbecoming chortle that escaped her wasn't something that a serious, elegant princess (her sister being the prime example of such longed-for perfectness…well, that's what Anna thought Elsa- uh _Princess_ Elsa – would be like. She hadn't talked to her, much less seen her sister in thirteen years so... eldest sisters and eldest princesses and queens were supposed to be like that. Perfect.) would do.

But most serious, elegant princesses (again, Princess Elsa – _Yes! I finally remembered her title –_ being the model every princess should strive for) didn't so closely resemble Medusa or any of her gorgon sisters – _Oh, what are their names? Zeno and Eurydice? No...__Stheno. Yes! Stheno and Eury- Euryale!_ – at eight o'clock in the morning – was it even eight o'clock in the morning? – and so, clapping both hands over her mouth, Anna burst out laughing. Who was she kidding? Perfection wasn't in her vocabulary. It wasn't going to happen.

Still giggling she kicked out her feet and skipped back to the dress.

Snatching a discarded hairbrush from her battered vanity, Anna worked on tugging it through her snarled waves. Unable to help herself, she began singing under her breath the words of an old village folksong.

"_Ole, oleanna, ole, oleanna_

_ole, ole, ole, ole, ole, oleanna…"_

She traced her bare feet across the floor, spinning in quick circles. A forceful yank, a sharp wrench and her hair began to whip around her face in silky –if slightly frizzy – tendrils.

"_Oh to be in Oleanna,_

_That's where I'd like to be_

_Than to be in Norway_

_And bear the chains of slavery."_

Anna could agree with the last bit. For too long she'd been a slave to these palace walls, a slave to popular opinion. That she was the extra, overlooked sister; the spare princess.

She could be something important. She knew she could.

Except she didn't want to leave her beautiful Norway.

No.

"_In Oleanna land is free_

_The wheat and corn just plant themselves_

_Then grow a good four feet a day_

_While on your bed you rest yourself!"_

Today, Oleanna would be coming to them. She'd barely been able to contain herself since it'd been announced that Elsa – _Princess _Elsa – was allowing them to have a ball in honor for her coronation.

A ball!

Anna tossed her hairbrush in the general direction of her bed, the clunking, skidding sound announcing that she, in fact, had missed. Her sister had actually a-okayed a ball! With minsters and dignitaries and dukes and duchesses and princes and princesses and town's folk! Anyone and everyone was invited. It was so…surreal.

Anna grinned.

Surreal. That was a great new word. They hadn't had a ball in… well, _ever_.

They'd _never_ had a ball.

"_Beer as sweet as muncheners_

_Springs from the ground and flows away_

_The cows all like to milk themselves_

_And the hens lay eggs ten times a day."_

Stripping from her frayed, but oh-so-angel-soft nightgown, Anna snatched up her corset hanging haphazardly from her changing screen. Sliding it up to her waist, adjusting her chemise and bloomers that had ridden up with her skirts, Anna cinched the ties until her thin figure miraculously produced curves and she could feel her heart beat in her stomach.

"_Little roasted piggies_

_Rush around the city streets_

_Inquiring so politely_

_If a slice of ham you'd like to eat."_

Braiding, twisting, pinning, her hair piled up up up, held back with a small jeweled comb streaming with bright green ribbons. A fluffing of the braid to hold her bangs in place; a makeshift head band.

"_The women there do all the work_

_As round the fields they quickly go_

_Each one has a hickory stick_

_And beats herself if she works too slow."_

Her gown settled around her waist effortlessly, buttons done up the back. Hugging her hips and bust.

Stockings drawn up the curves of her calves. Delicate black slippers slipped on.

"_Aye, if you begin to live_

_To Oleanna you must go_

_The poorest wench in Norway_

_Becomes a duke in a year or so."_

A dab of kohl to define her eyes, extenuating long lashes. A swipe to rid a bothersome smudge. A dusting of rose to her cheeks. A smidgen of rouge to her thin lips, the cherry pink color bringing out their fullness. Hopefully.

"_Ole, oleanna, ole, oleanna_

_ole, ole, ole, ole, ole, oleanna!"_

And stop.

The song, the music ends.

Hold yourself still and breathless. Heart beats fast.

Curtsy. Feet twisting under skirt. Disappear in a great poof of crinolines.

Pause.

Rise.

Take a deep breath.

And look.

Anna posed in front of the mirror, attempting a smoldering expression that utterly failed when combined with a multitude of freckles and that strange streak of blonde.

So much like her sister's.

But the dress… the sleeves dripped off her shoulders, the embroidery tapering at her waist and flaring out into the expanse of the polonaise. The green brought out the sea-colored flecks in her eyes and contrasted with the strawberry hue of her hair.

But she wasn't beautiful.

Girls like her; short, thin, and perpetually childlike, would never be described as beautiful.

She could be described as pretty.

Merely pretty.

Her eyes were shining, figure shapely enough, freckles somewhat paled, somewhat classy, hair maybe elegant and so…so French-like – she'd always admired the French hairstyles and fancy dresses that she could never afford.

There were lots of things she couldn't afford.

Jewelry to cover her unfashionably bare throat. Colored powders to dust across her eyelids. New books to replace the tattered excuses of ones – poor things – in the library.

Her sister's love.

"But today I'm going to change that." Anna told her reflection in a whisper, leaning close. "Today we're – I'm going to show Elsa that I haven't forgotten everything. And neither have Kristoff or Marius. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. We'll be best friends. And somehow I'll get Elsa and Marius to fall madly in love and I'll meet my prince and we'll have a double wedding. Kristoff…"

Anna-in-the-mirror regarded her perplexedly. Where did Kristoff fit in to any of this? She couldn't imagine him married, though Marius assured her he did in fact like this one girl. Must be awfully special to catch his attention. Beautiful and graceful and…

Her image was frowning now.

"What?"

_You don't like the idea of Kristoff married to anybody. _Her subconscious quipped.

"So? Why can't I be picky about who Kristoff marries. It's an incredibly important decision and if he chooses the wrong girl he'll be miserable for the rest of his life."

_Is that really what you think? Sure you're not a tinsy tiny bit jealous?_

"Me? Jealous? That's…so _stupid._ Of course I'm not jealous. Kristoff's just a friend."

_Didn't seem you were thinking that in that lovely dream of yours. _Ooooo. She had a point. Saints above her subconscious was evil. Evil!

_Seems to me that you rather liked dancing with him. Or him holding you in those arms of his. That your pick._

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

_Why? What's wrong in admitting that you like him?_

"I'm not listening you anymore."

_That's because you know it's true._

"Hush up. Now."

She didn't have time to figure out this new development. For the last few months all her energies had been focused on how she could play matchmaker with Marius and Elsa. She'd never told anybody but she had it all figured out. Elsa clearly needed someone like Marius and Marius needed someone whose name didn't start with "I" and ended in "Ulia".

Iulia was…rather _amazing. _

"Amazing taken anyway I want." Anna muttered, pulling a face she longed to make at Lord Fenrir's _very interesting _daughter.

Which was why Elsa and Marius together… a mischievous grin crossed her face and Anna, excitement bubbling over, gave another squeal and turned to her door, racing.

"It's coronation da – Ow!" With a yelp, Anna sprang back, toes smarting from where she stubbed them against – so that's where she'd put her copy of Grimm's! She'd been looking everywhere for it!

"Your Highness! Is everything alright?"

Peder was still here? How embarrassing!

She scooped up the tome, grunting with its weight and flipped through the pages, momentarily lost in pictures of dashing princes astride rearing horses and flawless damsels just waiting to be rescued and share in true love's kiss. Anna sighed dreamily, drawing the pages to her chest. _True love's kiss…_

Flashes of a man, tall, broad and strapping filled her head. Overlong blonde hair hung in front of eyes the color of the purest honey. Squared jaw, rough cheeks defined with darkened stubble.

Saints help her, she was blushing.

_Told you so._ A little voice snickered in her head.

"Is something wrong?" Peder knocked on the door, evidently quite worried. "Should I fetch a guard? Or maid? Or…something?"

"No!" Gaze flicking away from the current picture – two girls, sisters, clambering over a huge bear – to address the door, Anna hurriedly explained, "No no no no! I'm fine. Totally fine. No need to worry. Nope, not at all. I'm good. Great. Actually I'm amazing! What time is it? Did I oversleep? I can't believe I overslept! It's coronation day Peder. Can I call you Peder?"

"Er, I guess you could, but–"

"Oh wonderful! Can you believe it Peder? Elsa's – I uh mean _Princess _Elsa's getting crowned queen and the gates are opening and – oh my gosh, was I supposed to get her a present?!" Slapping her forehead, Anna frantically looked around her room.

There had to be something…

"It's not her birthday or anything but for her coronation– I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner – What am I going to–" She glanced down at the illustration, the sisters holding hands, walking through a wood. "The book! Grimm's! Elsa – gah, _Princess _Elsa, I gotta remember that. What do you think Peder?"

"Erm, I don't think I'm qualified –" Sighing, Anna placed the book on a spare chair, wringing her hands.

"No, you're right. She already has books. It has to be something with… _oomph_, you know?"

"I – I don't really know what you're talking about Miss. What is it that you need?"

"I don't want –" Anna shook her head, suddenly remembering those _soft_ skills – she was still at a lost to why they were called that – Minister Grigori Karmichael (christened Grig by those close to him)– a friend, tutor, and pastor all wrapped up into one – had been talking about. Though said kindly, he'd pointed out that when she talked, all her words came out jumbled together and heavens! – a favorite phrase of his – it wasn't at all like a princess should be. He was right of course. Heavens! – to quote her dear mentor – her very thoughts were so jumbled she could barely make sense of them herself. And she really _really _needed to work on that.

So Anna –taking Grig's advice – took deep breath. Paused.

_Think about other people's feelings._ She bit her lip, just a tad embarrassed – she liked that word; tad. It was so…_oh, never mind. Focus your mind_. She practically dumped all her life's troubles on this man she'd known for five seconds.

"Nothing. Just thinking aloud. You do that, right? Am I talking too much Peder? I wouldn't want to bother you."

Practice. This was practice. She'd learn from all the blunders she'd made on Peder and show everyone else she was a charming, endearing –

"You're not talking too much Your High–"

"Oh good!" Dang it, she cut him off again.

_Let people finish their own sentences. They're perfectly capable of it. They don't need your help to move them along Miss. Anna Katrina Edeline. _She could practically hear Grig's patient, lilted tones.

Though things did tend to move along much faster when she did. She usually refrained from pointing that out. Usually.

"Er, sorry again." Grig wasn't the only one either. "Kristoff and Marius always say that I– wait, have you seen them yet?"

_Important things first. Enunciate your words. _

"Are they here? I have to see them. We going to –" _Don't ramble. Only say what you mean to say. Not a word more. _"Um, never mind that – have you?"

_Wait, he probably didn't understand _any _of that. _Focus _Anna._

"Seen them I mean. Kristoff Bjorgman and Captain Marius Thorn obviously. Just in case you didn't know. Everybody knows them, but just in case you didn't. Not that you don't. I'm sure you do because you're here…what I mean to say is that if you're in the palace you kinda have to know who the servants and people are. Kristoff and Marius aren't servants though. Not technically. Actually Kristoff maybe, but I'd never tell him that. You know –?" Out of breath for a moment, Anna realized her error. She tried not to wince.

_Ugh. That was painful Anna. Elsa –Princess! You were doing so well with that –Princess Elsa would never babble endlessly. Just pretend you're her…besides the shutting people out and refusing to see them for thirteen– _

"Uh, no ma'am, I'm sorry, but I haven't seen them. Should I fetch them for you?"

_You're not supposed to think about that. Today is about second chances and new beginnings. She probably has a great reason for what she did. And she'll tell you why because she wants to be sisters too. You'll see. _At least, Anna really really _really _hoped she would.

"Miss? Princess?"

"What? Oh, no. No, you don't have to do that. I'll find them myself." To be honest, this was starting to get awkward. Not that Peder was awkward. She was awkward. Goodness she was so awkward.

"Um…thanks for," what? Waking her up? That sounded…_awkward._ "For…for telling me – for _announcing _that the gates will be opening soon." That sounded regal. "If you see Kris – Mr. Bjorgman or Captain Thorn, please tell them I'll meet them in the kitchens."

"I was told I was to escort you to –" Anna laughed.

"I know this place like the back of my hand. I don't _need_ to be escorted anywhere."

"But –"

"Really, it's fine. You probably have much more important things to do than escort me places."

"Well, I –"

"Besides, if anyone says anything, I'm the _princess._ Well not _the _princess. That's my sister. But you get the idea. If I say its fine, then it's fine. Trust me."

"If you say so ma'am but –"

"_Go_ Peder." With a giggle, she went on. "And that's an order, mister."

"Oh! Yes ma'am – Princess Anna! Oh course Princess Anna. I'll go right this minute. Sorry to bother you." Peder's babbling faded with his footsteps as he hurried down the corridor.

_Oh drat it all. I didn't mean it like that!_

"Ped – Mr. Rasmus wait!" Anna called, running to her door and throwing it open. Peder – nervous little squirrel of a man – was nowhere to be seen. "Oh for all the saints above!"

What could be seen though, quite obviously, was a serving girl. Frowning as she took in Anna's rich gown and bare head –contrary to popular opinion, only the crowned princess wore a tiara. Hooking her thumb in his general direction Anna shrugged.

"Can you believe it? He actually thought I was giving him an order! As if I would order anybody to do anything." Her eyes narrowed. "Well maybe if I really needed something and I couldn't do it myself or if the kingdom was in mortal peril." Smile bursting at its seams, Anna marched over to the girl, sticking out her hand. The girl's gaze dropped to her wriggling fingers, still staring, though not offering hers in a handshake. Clearing her throat as a prompt, Anna grasped the girl's hand, shaking it with much enthusiasm.

"Hi! I mean hello! It's so nice to meet you. I'm Anna. What's your name?"

"Ylva?" Why did everyone only answer her questions with questions? Wasn't anybody sure of anything? They needed to be more confident.

"Oh my gosh, that's such a pretty name. Sometimes I wish my name wasn't Anna. Something like Viktoria or Helena. Anna's so common and simple, though I guess it's easy for people to remember. I wouldn't want to be Princess Hildegarde or something else no one can remember. Or pronounce. Personally I think Hildegarde sounds like a sneeze. But that doesn't matter right now because it's coronation day and… and I'm just so excited!"

Anna let go of Ylva's limp hand, only to grab both a moment later, spinning the girl in a circle. Releasing a very bemused and dizzy Ylva, Anna whirled in a couple circles of her own, laughing as her skirt flared out like a pinwheel around her knees. Laughing harder as she caught Ylva's somewhat horrified expression. She must be thinking that the youngest princess was a complete mad woman.

Which she could be. It was definitely a possibility.

"You're not Princess Elsa?" Cinnamon brown eyes blinking in utter confusion under her wide-brimmed bonnet, the maid continued to stare. She was perhaps two or three years younger than Anna and clearly wasn't caught up with the appearances of royal family members. Not that Anna could really blame her.

"Princess Elsa? Me?" Pausing her dancing long enough to gesture at herself, Anna shook her head. "Gosh, thanks…but um no. It's just me. Anna. _Princess _Anna actually. You know, the other princess. I'm sure you've heard of me?"

_Please have heard of me. Please please please please please! _

Ylva nodded slowly.

"Yes." She drew out the word, biting the inside of her cheek, forming an indent in her round face. "It's just I was really hoping to…" she ducked her head, words ceasing as red crossed her tanned cheeks.

"You were hoping to meet my sister." Anna guessed, not even trying to keep the disappointment from the voice she always tried to keep so winsome and chipper. Why did she even bother keeping her hopes up?

_Not part of the town. Not born to be queen. Just somebody hopelessly in between. That's me. The spare._

Leaning on her door, Anna forced her tone somewhere high and chirpy.

"I…I think she's in the West Wing. But no one's allowed to go there so…You'll probably see her at her coronation ceremony. That's when I'll be seeing her I think. Kristoff and Marius too –" Her head snapping up, Ylva gasped.

"You know Kristoff Bjorgman?!"

Anna wasn't so sure she liked the enraptured glow in the Ylva's eyes. Since when did Kristoff make _anybody's_ eyes glow? That had always been Marius, with his charm and wit and uncanny hotness. Sure Kristoff was good-looking, handsome really with his whole look-at-me-I'm-a-big-strong-mountain-man thing he had going. But…well…

Fragments of her dream, once again remembered, flickered through her mind.

Anna bit her lip.

No. She definitely did _not_ like the enraptured glow in Ylva's eyes.

Not.

One.

Bit.

"Yeah." She replied casually, carefully. "Of course I know him. He and Marius are my best friends. They're the best." Anna paused. "I mean obviously they're the best. I just said they were my best friends."

_Wait. Since when is Kristoff something – something…_

"Really?" If she had to guess, and really, Anna didn't like guessing when it came to such matters, she'd have guessed that she was now the target of Ylva's envy. Sheesh. What was with the maids and Kristoff?! It was always Marius girls were mooning over. So why…? _Oh right. Everybody thinks that Marius is engaged. Well, he is engaged, but he's not supposed to be. At least not to Little Miss Prissy Face. Saints, I really have to implement this plan of mine._

Except she didn't exactly have a plan. Just some vague concept that relied heavily on convincing Marius to break off his engagement and somehow making Elsa see that she and Marius were just prefect for each other and doing something to Iulia. And dragging Kristoff in to help her carry it out, which could possibly be the hardest part seeing how stubborn he could be. But surely he'd understand.

He had to.

Oh course, now it seemed that she had to waste brainpower trying to save _him_ from being overcome by the deadly wiles of every girl in Arendelle with nothing but a silken fan for a weapon!

_Nice going Kristoff._

"Wow." Ylva was saying. "You're so lucky Princess Anna. Could you introduce me to him? My friends will be so jealous! I'd give anything just to talk to him. He's not engaged is he?"

_Well you move awfully quick, don't you? You haven't even met Kristoff and you're already throwing yourself at him like some cow-eyed…some cow-eyed toad!_

A beat.

Brows drawn at her sarcasm. Her meanness. This girl had every right to like Kristoff. It wasn't like he was hers. Right? Right.

_Anna, what's gotten into you?_

"No." A lie would be too easily discovered and frankly Anna didn't consider herself the lying sort. So she was shocked when she heard herself saying, "But he really likes this one girl so I don't think he'd be interested. He really _really_ likes her."

But did he? Could he? Did she want him to? Y–

Wait, what? What in the world did she just say?!

"I uh, I mean…" What? That he didn't like this unnamed, unknown 'her'?

"Oh." Ylva blinked rapidly, turning away. "If you'll excuse me Princess Anna, I have some important duties to attend to." Her retreat was so swift, Anna couldn't get in a word of edgewise.

"Sorry." Muttered to an empty corridor, meddling with the swell of chatter filling the castle.

Crushed dreams. Crushed hope. She knew how it felt.

The emptiness.

It was almost enough for Anna to run after her. Take it back.

But she didn't.

Couldn't.

Kristoff was…she wasn't even going to think about what he was. Not now. Not right after stumbling across this revelation that she…that she…

Liked him.

Princess Anna Katrina Edeline liked Kristoff Fredrik Bjorgman and there was no denying it.

No hiding it.

The thought made her all warm inside.

Squirm.

Blush.

Spin emerald circles. Furling unfurling. Furling unfurling.

Race through the castle. Laugh at the shocked expressions of new guards and servants who had yet to be told of her notorious antics. Jump to the moon! Well she couldn't actually jump to the moon, but…

She could try!

Skidding down the freshly oiled staircase, skating through the ball room, waving, blowing kisses to her painted friends on the wall.

"We'll talk later Joan! I promise! I got so much to tell you!"

A leap, a bound, pulling herself to the one open window, looping her eager fingers around the ropes of the makeshift pulley-swing the three of them had built to reach the roof in hopes of entering the West Wing from the sky.

Like caged birds waiting to be freed. Waiting to spread their once-bound wings. To fly, soar, swoop, spiral through that great expanse of blue.

Hoisting herself upward she saw the ships. Floating into the harbor like stately clouds from distant lands. Anna scrunched her nose. She'd never been good at metaphors…or was it a simile?

She remembered sitting up here with Kristoff – Marius was busy training, or being taught tracking and strategy by his father –just the two of them. Talking about what they would do when the gates finally opened. She remembered the strange emotions that she always pushed away, sure that they could never come to light.

Until now.

Was it love?

Anna threw her weight forward, swinging back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

It could be. Oh how she so wanted it to be!

After all it was coronation day.

Today everything could change.

But Anna was ready. She'd always be ready. She was born ready –

"Hey love? Want to come down from there before you break that pretty little neck of yours?"

Oh it was going to change alright. Starting with one Captain Marius Lorens Thorn.

[A/N: Oh hi, it's me. Kelda Zevsdaughter. You're best friend. Sorry. That was an inside joke that none of you will get, but is making me giggle like some crazed mad women as I work on chapter three. Anyway, sorry I haven't posted in like four weeks. Christmas time was quite busy and my job required extra hours. *Clutches face in hands* So many hours… Anywho, anywhat, any – it's 11 o'clock at night and I barely know what I'm saying anymore – chapter three should come more quickly. It'll be shorter. I think. I hope. This was supposed to be short and it's 14 pages in Word. Typical. You'd think it'd move quickly cuz Anna rambles, but nope. Elsa's still the easiest character to write. Btw sorry if Anna seems to be a bit…mentally unstable. I didn't mean for it to come out like that and frankly this chapter amuses me so I'm not changing it.

So to get back to WinterKnight2104 thanks so much for your comments. They make me laugh. And yes the Himmler children! Stefan is hands down my favorite, followed by Nyamph. *Snickers* Hansel… and Rupert. That darling thing. He reminds me of my guinea pig Azalea… As for Elsa's feelings for Marius, my lips are sealed. You'll just have to wait and see.

Last bit and then I'm done cuz I write insanely long authors notes. Three more songs for my on going list and they are…I Hope you Dance (Cover by Mandisa), There's a Place for Us by Carrie Underwood, and Not That Girl sung by Idina Menzel. Okay I'm finished. Enjoy. Comment. Critic. Review. Roger that. Kelda Zevsdaughter over and out.]


	4. Chapter 3: Oh Captain, My Captain

Chapter Three: Oh Captain, My Captain

The engagement of Captain Marius Thorn and Lady Iulia Fenrir had gotten off to a rocky start, what with the whole arranged marriage deal and all. Add that with the general feelings of dislike said captain held for the prospective bride-to-be, her refusal to take a hint, and things got ugly fast. But since formulating a plan that if, executed properly, would ensure his freedom, he'd become the personification of an obedient son and a well-mannered gentleman. And after three and a half weeks of such commendable behavior, he'd finally convinced the General to postpone the wedding for two more months.

He was quite certain this would not have succeeded had the General not been pursuing his own motives at the time and was not thoroughly convinced that his son would resort to almost anything to gain his approval.

Nine years ago, and he would have been right. But implied assumptions went a long way in convincing the world of a lie.

So, for the time being, he was still engaged to biggest witch in all of Scandinavia.

Lucky him.

All things considered it was actually an anomaly of nature he hadn't just high-tailed and run already.

Not, of course, that he hadn't considered it.

Nine-hundred-and-ninety-seven times and counting if you really wanted to keep track, which Marius thought was pretty generous considering he'd had over a month to contemplate and implement his escape plan.

Could have been nine-hundred-and-ninety-eight.

Of course there was the added complication that should he decide to high-tail and run, and eventually he was going to have to, he'd be leaving behind the woman he was actually in love with and would be placing her safety in the hands of his rival, which kind of defeated the whole purpose of high-tailing.

Then there was the frustrating reality that kidnapping her, though he could totally pull it off no problem whatsoever, would be considered treason of the highest order.

And the fact that he was also that woman's bodyguard.

To whom he had sworn upon life-death-sickness-health-better-or-worse-for-as-long-as-they-both-shall-live to protect.

Granted, maybe Marius had added that last part. Technically he'd only sworn his life and sacred honor, but he'd been thinking the rest when King Adgar gave him the position so he figured it counted.

Whistling a tune as he strode through the crowded corridors towards the West Wing, weaving between the droves of new servants with a feline grace, Marius slipped a hand into the pocket of his uniform's overcoat. His mouth quirked upward when his tapered fingers brushed the long, rectangular box wrapped in fragile tissue.

_Yeah, _he thought, _that last part _definitely _counts. _

Marius rounded the corner, taking an immediate right up a hidden, rickety staircase without hesitation, in pitch blackness for a span before he stepped, blinking into the sunlit main corridor of the third floor. Partly from playing hide-and-go-seek with Anna and Kristoff when they were children, and partly from his duty as the queen-to-be's bodyguard, he knew the palace and all surrounding grounds like the back of his hand. That included all the secret passageways.

Shame none of them ever led to Elsa's room.

Once upon a time, she had played with them too, he remembered. Ironically, she'd been the best at hiding. Fitting, considering how she'd hidden away in her room for thirteen years, expertly avoiding their plans to bust her out of solitary confinement.

Quite a long time of playing hard-to-get in Marius's humble opinion.

They would have succeeded too; his plans were top notch.

If only Little Miss Stick-in-the-Mud hadn't been so stubborn.

With a low chuckle that startled some maids, who tittered behind their hands, one fluttering her lashes in his direction, that of which he made a point to ignore, he couldn't help the smirk curling his lips into an expression that was decidedly rather wicked. The maids, silly girls, thought it was aimed at them. Ah well, he'd been lectured by the General so many times that the words just kind of ran together nowadays.

Elsa had been kind of cute when she was being stubborn. Her big, pale blue eyes would spark with streaks of silver, and her faint dusting of freckles would become more prominent as her cheeks paled. To be honest, she'd looked about as threatening as a field mouse.

He wondered if she was still incapable of blushing, like she'd been when they were children. No matter how hard he tried, he'd never been able never get that satisfying color to paint her cheeks.

Marius's smirk widened as he ruffled his fingers through his hair, successfully disheveling the style the General required, strands curling up from the gel. Messier still with the stubborn swatch of white –correction, swatch of _platinum blonde –_ growing back from his left temple.

Not that he cared.

The General would just have to deal with his newest infraction.

At the very least, he'd get that stern glower he'd never admit to once fearing. If his father was in a good mood he'd only make an off-handed comment that First Lt. Tobias Werner was better suited to be Princess Elsa's bodyguard. Which was a load of hogwash, if he'd ever heard it. He had outranked Tobias in every single test they took for graduation. He was the strongest, fastest, most skilled guard Arendelle had ever seen. If anyone deserved to be Elsa's personal guard, he did.

Even if it meant keeping her at arm's length for the rest of their lives.

When all he'd ever wanted was to hold her.

Marius's stalked down a smaller side passage, a drab, unadorned hallway that led to the main hall of the castle like a capillary leads to the larger artery. He ground his teeth together so hard that a throbbing began to spread throughout his jaw.

Breaking off this engagement would be the hardest thing he'd ever done. Lord Fenrir would be livid.

Marius winced.

_Iulia_ would be livid. Probably try to scratch his eyes out, the witch.

But the General…

Honestly Marius expected he'd be disowned if he dared go against the General's wishes one more time. That and shipped off to some distant outpost in Northern Norway for "retraining". Wilhelm Thorn had threatened to do so before. Better to rid the _illustrious_ family tree of the son who time and time again failed to live up to the "noble name of Thorn," he often said.

Giving his teeth a final grounding, Marius let his fingers uncurl from their tight, clenched fists. His taut muscles slowly relaxed, leaving a dull ache as he forced himself to release some of the bottled up tension in his arms. Fingers strung through his overlong, tawny-brown hair – now completely destroying the professional, slicked-back look– Marius closed his eyes for a brief few seconds.

He still had a queen to attend to, and he wasn't going to fail in that duty no matter what.

Elsa was depending on him.

With another grin that could only be classified as naughty, Marius threw open the doors to the main hall, striding across the gleaming floors.

Immerging from the ball room, his deep teal eyes met the drooping ones of one of his subordinates, 2nd Lt. Jonathan Frode, slumped against the window pane where the steps let out from behind a heavy curtain. Marius cleared his throat, any softness in his countenance from fantasizing about the eldest princess turning to stone. Upon hearing his approaching footsteps, the man's eyes and posture snapped to attention, guilty as charged. Seeing Marius, he relaxed slightly, massaging his temples. Brown hair sticking up in places, jaw unshaven, uniform wrinkled and un-tucked, it was a miracle the General hadn't caught him yet.

"Jon," Marius sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "What are you doing?" Jon glanced at his boots, clearly ashamed.

"Sorry Captain. I… I overslept. It won't happen again sir."

Marius's junior by eleven by only eleven months, the General always claimed that Jon was perhaps the laziest guard under Arendellise employ. Back awhile Marius had considered him a friend. Two boys forced together in the barracks by necessity. He was the far-too-skilled general's son who did everything right. Who graduated at the top of his class and broke the record as youngest Captain of the Guard. Ever. Jon had been the half-Swede who did everything wrong. He'd graduated at the very bottom of his class. Though perhaps there he'd been lucky. Had he failed like so many who went through the brutal training program, he'd have been shipped off to one of Arendelle's northern outposts. There was a reason that place had been nicknamed "Land of the Living Dead."

Courtesy of the General, no doubt.

And while they could no longer be called friends, Marius had no desire to see Jon spend the rest of able-bodied year slaving away in a work camp. Probation was the first step in that direction.

"Look, I understand there are underlying issues you need to work out, but it's getting harder to cover for you when the General asks and I have my own duties to worry about." Marius said, shaking his head. Why couldn't Jon put in the effort required to save his sorry hide?! He'd wasted so much time keeping him below the General's radar. He had more important things to deal with! "Need I remind you, you're on probation?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry –"

"Stop apologizing and give me results Lieutenant. Starting by staying awake at your post. It's my job to make sure Elsa's –"

He grimaced, knowing Jon caught his mistake with one look at his arched brows. Clearing his throat only made matters all the more worse.

"As I was saying, it's my job to make sure Her Highness's coronation runs smoothly and if _anyone_ screws it up they'll answer directly to me. Do I make myself absolutely clear Lt. Frode?"

"Y – yes sir."

"Good. See that what needs to happen happens."

"Yes sir."

Boots spinning over the runner as he turned on his heel, Marius paused at a set of double doors before throwing one last order over his shoulder.

"And for the bleeding saints clean yourself up Jon. For your own sake if nothing else."

The following corridor plunged him back into a swell of people. He didn't mind though. The extra guards and servants made things easier on everybody, Gerda, Kai, Kristoff's parents and heads of staff especially.

Marius straightened at the chimes a high, tinkling laugh. His brows rose, mouth climbing once again in its signature one-sided grin. The proof was in the wide open window and the warm summer breeze teasing across the collar of his uniform. Seriously, what idiot decided that the royal guard should wear woolen suits in the middle of July? He stuck his head out, catching sight of the young princess suspended above him.

"Hey love? Want to come down from there before you break that pretty little neck of yours?"

"Marius!" When she beamed down at him, her thin cheeks seeming fuller with the strawberry-blonde braids pinned to halo her face, it became difficult to remember his mess of troubles. There had only been a handful of times over the years when Anna had seemed so filled to bursting with joy. This girl, the little sister he'd never had, deserved it more than anybody.

"You're here! Oh my gosh you're here– Can you believe it?! I can't believe it. This is just so… so incredible!" She waved wildly at the maypole and streamers townsfolk were setting up in the village green, teetering precariously from the swing before hooking an ankle around the rope. "Whew. Okay. I'm okay."

Perusing the square, Marius felt his gaze inexplicably drawn to the darker, older stone of the West Wing, which only served to give the castle a two-toned affect.

_Almost anybody_, Marius amended, the vision of a young girl, loose braid and smooth skin as pale as freshly fallen snow taunting his memories. What did she look like now? Beautiful, he guessed. She'd always been beautiful. Dainty but not fragile. Strong and yet still so delicate.

_Get over it Marius. _He needed to put an end to these thoughts. _You're engaged and the only way out of it is leaving Arendelle _and Elsa_ for good._

Though that reminder had never been particularly helpful in quelling his overactive imagination.

Grasping the sill, leaning out farther than any lesser man would have dared, and twisting so that he was looking up at Anna, Marius cupped a hand around his mouth, calling up,

"Not that I'm upset that you're so excited to see me darlin', but you and I both know what happened last time you tried climbing up to the roof and I'm pretty sure Gerda and Disa will have my head if anything happens to you today. And personally I think my head is one of my better assets so…" He chuckled as Anna rolled her eyes, tugging on the pulley to descend to the window ledge.

"Hey!" Narrowly avoiding colliding with her as Anna zipped downward, Marius threw himself back, laughing as she got the swing under control. She blushed, grinning sheepishly, still a couple feet above him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Oh good, you look fine. You're fine, right? The pulley-level-wheel-thingy was kinda stuck so I tried to get it unstuck and I guess I got it too unstuck." Jiggling the ropes, frowning, and jiggling them again, she huffed. "And now it's stuck again."

"Smooth. I'll make sure to tell the furious five that Princess Anna broke their swing." By the furious five, he meant the Himmler children of course.

"I didn't break it!" Anna protested, fiddling with the mechanism. "It's been temperamental for years and you know it."

"True, but you were on it when it was being temperamental so…"

"Don't you dare tell Marius Thorn. Kristoff will never let me hear the end of it. Catch!"

Arms already outstretched, expecting it, Marius caught the princess, settling her on the window ledge in one fluid motion.

"Another crazy trust exercise Princess?" He quipped.

"Nope." Smoothing her skirt, she rocked back and forth kicking her feet. "To prove that you take it _way_ better than Kristoff does. Though I think he was upset because I got hay all over him… And practice for you. You are my sister's bodyguard after all. Have to make sure you're capable."

"Oh?" He bowed, circling his hand at his sternum and sweeping it behind his back in a sign of outmost respect. "And what's your verdict Your Highness?"

"I think I'll keep you around for now."

"Really? Do tell why." He drawled, leaning up against the side of the window, crossing his legs. For once he couldn't really read the odd expression in her aquamarine eyes. It reminded him of a fox's; sly and thoughtful.

"I have a plan." She announced with superiority, for once not elaborating.

"Which you're not going to tell me about?" This was new. He was used to Anna telling him everything. And that really meant everything. They'd had…awkward conversations over the years.

"I can't. Well, not yet. It depends. I'm not sure I should yet. It's kinda, well –"

"It's about me isn't it?" He offered his gloved hand to her. Anna's mouth clamped shut and her attention was suddenly captured by something out the window, immediately giving herself away.

"Knew it."Marius smirked. Anna stuck her tongue out at him.

"So why is your head your best asset?" She took Marius's outstretched hand and he helped her back into the corridor. "No, wait! Wait. Let me guess." Hands on her hips, Anna studied him before she punched the air in triumph and announced. "It's your face."

"Whoa whoa, hold up. You're not playing the change-the-topic game to try and make me forget about this. It ain't happening sweetheart. But," he relented, holding up his hands in surrender, "as it appears we have a issue here…" Shaking his head in mock disappointment, Marius heaved a dramatic sigh. "Seriously? Anna. We've been best friends for eighteen years. I thought you'd know by now. My good looks are just my cover. I'm more than just another pretty face round here. So do me a favor and try not to put a tear in your bloomers."

"You're not supposed to know about those!" Scandalized, Anna gasped, staring at him with wide eyes and readjusting her skirts to cover the never-to-be-mentioned undergarment. "How –" He could practically see the cogs turning behind her fair, freckled forehead. "Wait. No. Did you –? No, you didn't – I don't want to know. Don't tell me. I do _not_ want to – and why are you laughing?"

"Oh…saints!" He wheezed.

Marius was having trouble walking he was laughing so hard. People were starting to stare, but that never bothered him. Their conversation had been low enough not to be overheard by those rushing around the corridor. But she actually thought – he'd never even kissed a girl, something unknown by many – Elsa was always the one he – Marius decided not to finish that thought– really, he was as pure as snow – saints above she actually thought –?!

Mirthful tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Nothing to see here. We're fine. Well, _I'm _fine. He has issues. But not the kind that you should care about. Really. Um…bye!" Anna was calling to their audience, wavering her hands and dragging him through yet another set of doors, through the main hall and to a little very much deserted alcove under the staircase. As he was still doubled over, she knotted her arms across her chest, shooting him daggers. When he sobered, slightly, the interrogation commenced.

"Okay. That's it. Talk mister. Right. Now. My plan depends on this. This is a matter of Elsa's – I mean this is a matter of super important royal duties that has nothing to do with my sister. At all. So – oh would you stop laughing Marius?! It's not funny!"

His sides ached and he was breathless. Three times he tried to talk until he gave way to chuckling. Finally, pushing up from the floor, he flashed Anna a toothy grin.

"Love, if you thought I'd ever do what you're implying, you don't know me at all. I'm bad, trust me I know, but I'm not _that_ bad." Relief, then the foxy slyness, were the first two emotions evident on the girl's face. Abashment came with a splotchy red along her cheekbones.

"Oh, thank goodness! We're saved. I mean…" Anna cleared her throat. "My _plan_ is saved."

"The one that had nothing to do with me and Elsa, but actually had everything to do with me and Elsa? That one?"

Nose turned into the air, Anna harrumphed and shook her head, ducking out from under the grand staircase.

"Don't even think about it. I'll never tell."

"Oooh, a guessing game. I love guessing games." He twiddled his thumbs together, gazing out into the distance.

"What makes you think you'll be able to figure it out?" Splaying his hand at his temples, he replied,

"Brains, love."

With a snort, Anna took his arm, tugging him towards the kitchens.

"Brains…" she mused. "I'm not buying it."

"Ow-w." The half-hearted protest did nothing to deter her. "You're really cutting me to pieces there."

"No I'm not." Her singsong snagged the attention of a gaggle of serving girls, clumped together in the small, low-beamed atrium outside the kitchens. One looked up, gasped, and nudged the others. Eight sets of eyes found his. Or him in general. Not to brag, but he _did _look pretty amazing in the new uniform, murderous as it was, what with it's crisp black cut, bronze epaulets, and all twenty-six shining metals. It wasn't bragging if you could back it up with skill.

And saints knew he had the skill.

"Ey, love." Marius dazzled her with a flirtatious wink. The girl blushed beet red and immediately looked away, her friends forming a huddle of whispers and giggles.

"Oh come on Marius. For once in your life, stop flirting with anything that moves." Anna grumbled, yanking him along.

"Too late."Chuckling, he gave a two-fingered salute the girls and sent them into the sort of twittering that reminded him of the chickadees and frost sparrows that found his window in the winter mornings.

"Oh for all the love of the saints."

* * *

_A memory; Elsa at a window, watching the birds with her soft, gentle smile. Turning, she looks at him, her smile brightening, and his heart gives a funny, flip-flopping jolt._

* * *

_Get a grip Marius. It's not happening._

He shook his head, earning him a pointed glance from Anna which he ignored, and pulled the doors open.

They were hit by a heat wave that had clearly overrun the packed palace kitchens. He grimaced, forcing himself to walk on despite the beads of perspiration that immediately ran into his uniform. Anna groaned, rapidly fanning her face, cheeks blotching once more.

"Can I help you Highness? Captain?" asked a slight man wearing a chocolate smeared apron and flopping chef's hat. His mustache twitched like whiskers, putting to mind the image of a hare.

"Oh hi! Hello, I mean. Good morning." What probably was meant to be a wave looked more like Anna was trying to fan the man. He looked like he needed it. "Sorry to bother you sir."

"Not at all Princess Anna." He bowed low. "Can I offer you raspberry scone or apple strudel or –"

"I'll take a piece of –" Marius started.

"We're looking for Gerda." Anna interrupted, jabbing her elbow into his side.

"Ow –"

"Gerda Bjorgoman. She works here. Actually cooks here. Have you seen her?"

"Marius, Anna? That you dears?" A stout, ample woman with flyaway grey hair and rosy cheeks bustled out from the pantry closet, lugging a stack of flour over her shoulder. Her clothes, cheeks, and hair were dusted with the stuff. "It's alright Tomas. I'll take care of these two here troublemakers. You get to work on those truffles."

"Gerda!" Skipping forward, Anna threw her bare, skinny arms around their adoptive mother figure. "I'm so so so so happy!" Laughing her throaty, raspy laugh, Gerda rocked her, squeezing the little princess tight against her breast.

"Oh Lady, I know. Gerda knows. Never seen you look so beautiful. Let me look at you." She frowned. "Dear me, I'm getting flour all over you." Gerda patted her head, pushing her away, swiping at Anna's flecked skirts. "Lady, I'm so sorry."

"No, no!" Anna said, shrugging good naturedly. "It's totally fine. I'll probably spill punch on it by the end of the day…" She became thoughtful. "Maybe that's why they made the top mostly black."

"Morning Gerda. Looking lovely today, as always." Marius grinned, stooping down and giving the elderly woman a quick peck on the cheek, before relieving her of her load, handing it off to a bemused dough boy, who staggered beneath it.

"Hold this for me would you? There's a fine laddie."

Scullery girls, chopping carrots and turnips and potatoes and onions, tittered amongst themselves. Gerda Bjorgoman grunted in mild amusement, rolling her eyes, but patted his cheek in a motherly way and waddled over to the ovens, retorting.

"Humph. Don't you go using your sweet words on me. Cheap flirt is what you are."

"That's awfully harsh. You wound me madam." He replied, mock-hurt in his tone.

"Save it for someone who cares."

"He always like this Gerda?" Tomas called from a table making all sorts of chocolate candies.

"Hey, Anna," Marius whispered, nodding his head towards them. Her eyes followed his and with a barely supressed squeal, she darted over to the table, striking up a lively conversation with a young man dipping truffles in a vat of chocolate fondue.

"Oh, this is nothing. He's usually much worse."

Still smiling, Marius scooped the flour sack from the dough boy and settled it on the only bit of counter space that wasn't covered with trays upon trays of miniature cakes, tarts, and pastries.

"Thanks. Carry on with your work."

Spying Gerda's famous apple strudel, drizzled with a glossy mixture of honey and silvered almonds, Marius felt his mouth water.

"Hey Gerda," he called, glancing back her way. "Any of this stuff for me? Looks pretty good." She suddenly popped up again by the stove, shaking a wooden spoon at him before stirring a pot of thick, caramel-colored something that looked like custard. Or crème brûlée_. _He _loved _crème brûlée. Gerda's light gray eyes were flinty. The cooks paused to watch the battle.

"You keep those greedy paws of yours off my strudel Marius Thorn! That's for the ball tonight and I won't have you spoiling Princess Elsa's coronation because of your great big stomach." Chuckling, Marius held up his hands in surrender, taking a careful step back.

"Okay, okay. Stepping away from the strudel. But actually…" He flashed Gerda one of his most charming smiles.

The one with dimples.

Gerda blinked a couple times, as though stunned by its sheer charisma. Marius dimmed the affect ever so slightly. No use blinding the poor woman. Nor the innocent servants surrounding her like chicks swarming a mother hen.

"Say I bring Princess Elsa a piece for breakfast?" He waited a moment. _Any second now…_

An eyebrow cocked. While Gerda looked impressively unimpressed, Marius knew he'd won. The woman had a soft spot when it came to Elsa.

_But then again, don't we all?_

He continued.

"Then maybe could I trouble you for two –" Finally, she heaved a sigh, brandishing a rolling pin at him, and after glaring pointedly for a full six seconds, went to work readying a soufflé dish.

Crème brûlée it was.

"Fine." Gerda muttered. A knock out."But only because its coronation day and only if you promise you watch her eat the whole thing. Sends half her meals back untouched. Doesn't eat nearly enough. One of these days she'll just topple over with the next gust of wind and then where will we be?"

Marius looked up to find Anna staring at him, chocolate forgotten. Her brow puckered with worry that reflected his own.

"You have my word fair lady." Grabbing a spare length of cloth from off the counter, Marius helped himself to three of the sticky pastries, wrapping them up and sliding them into his pocket. "Want one Anna?"

"Wha –Oh, yeah. Please. Thanks." She forced a smile to replace her frown. He held her gaze for a second.

"Don't even think about fair-ladying me. I want none of it, you hear? Not a single word." Gerda's tone was mildly threatening, though when Marius shifted his gaze over in her direction, he glimpsed a poorly concealed smile.

"Will do. But really Gerda. Thanks. You're the best, you know that?" She gave no appearance of hearing him, simply cut out pieces of crust with long, precise strokes of her knife, though Marius could have sworn he'd heard her say the word "spoiled" under her breath. He bit back a laugh. Tugging at the starched collar of his uniform and undoing two of the buttons in a half-hearted effort against the heat, Marius glanced around before asking.

"So, any idea where Kristoff is?"

"Yeah, where's Kristoff?" Anna echoed.

"He's –" The kitchen floor flew open, cutting her off. A scrawny child rushed inside.

"Marius! Marius!" Arms flung around his back, Stefan Himmler tackled him from behind. Or at least that's what he was hoping to do.

"Garrh! Stefan! I'm gonna get you!" Marius grabbed him under arms and swung him over his shoulder and tickling his exposed stomach, a tactical error on Stefan's part, eliciting gleesome shrieks from the boy.

"Stop, stop!" He squirmed in Marius's arms. "I have –" he dissolved into giggles – "I have something –" a hiccup, another giggle – "something to tell you."

"Do you now laddie?" Stefan grinned at the Scottish inflection Marius had picked up when touring the Kingdom of DunBroch. Flipping him back to his feet, he continued, "And what would that be?"

"Not here!" Hand at his brow, he peered around suspiciously, studying a plate towered high with braided pastries as if though spies were hidden within the folds. "It's a secret."

"Looks like we're heading out then." Anna said. "Goodbye culinary people! See you later Gerda." To the candy makers she whispered, "I'll be back." Hands clasped, she and Stefan ran out of the kitchens. Nabbing a pastry for Stefan, Marius followed close behind, calling back.

"Nice seeing you Gerda. But then, it always is."

Gerda had ducked behind the ovens so he figured she hadn't heard.

That or she was pretending not to. It was rather hard to tell.

In the atrium again, minus the servants, Anna and Stefan waited for him impatiently. Convinced they were alone and the oh so important news protected, the boy beckoned them close.

"Okay." Ribs sticking out as he puffed out his chest, Stefan proudly announced. "I saw Princess Elsa at six o'clock this morning."

"YOU WHAT?!" The boy snickered when the both yelled at the same time.

"Jinx." They muttered together. "Double jinx! Triple jinx!"

"Quadruple jinx." Marius muttered when Anna hesitated. She scrunched her nose at him, then knelt and grabbed Stefan by the shoulders, staring him down.

"You saw El – Princess Elsa?" She first whispered, almost to herself. Then, volume rising with each question, she very near shouted. "Where? How? Why? What does she look like? What was she wearing? What did she say? Details, Stefan!"

"Let him breath darling."

"Oh! Right. Sorry. Sorry. It's just – you actually saw my sister! I haven't even seen her yet!"

Pockets bulging with strudel and the rectangular box, Marius squatted beside them, passing the pilfered Danish to the boy. "Care to fill us in lad? We're all ears."

A boy after Marius's own heart, Stefan cut to the most important after cramming the better part of the flakey, fruity treat into his mouth.

"Sheddamopdbeaufulwomamibdauld."

"What?"

"Swallow first lad." Adam's apple bobbing as the pastry hastened to his stomach, Stefan repeated.

"She's the most beautiful woman in the world, that's what."

So he was right. Good to know. Marius brows hiked and he shared a look with Anna. The way he said it, starry-eyed and no longer sounding so childlike despite the crumbs clinging to his upper lip. It seemed like only yesterday Stefan was a chubby, toddling youngster. Now he was what? Almost thirteen. Almost a man. _Saints._

"Well that's awfully descriptive," Marius rolled up on his heels, pulling Anna up with him, "but I'm gonna have to bother you for –"

"Ah, Princess Anna. I thought I might find you here." They all turned at the deep, overconfident voice, though only Marius did so begrudgingly, fixing the speaker with a dangerous smile.

"Lieutenant Werner, I thought I told you to guard the entrance to the West Wing. Were my orders too difficult for you?" He asked lightly, to all else appearing as a jest.

Since graduation, he and Tobias had maintained a mutual, unspoken agreement to treat each other with the upmost manners of gentlemanly politeness. Fascinating, the barbed insults one could slip in when doing so. Green eyes piercing and cold as his returning grin, Tobias inclined his head ever so slightly and Marius couldn't help but notice his neatly combed, dirty blonde hair. Seems he even got it trimmed.

_Prat._

"My apologies sir, but Elsa – I mean _Princess _Elsa asked me to deliver a message to her lovely sister."

_I'm going to kill him._ The slip of the tongue was intentional. Familiarity. Just the right weapon to get under his skin. Internally, he swore, quite colorfully too.

_Saints, he knows._

This was bad. So very very bad.

"Princess Elsa has a message? For me? Oh my goodness, what is it?!" Emotion welling up, Anna couldn't managed much more than a squeak that tempered the homicidal thoughts raging through Marius's head. Stefan slipped his fingers through hers. With a final condescending sneer in Marius's direction, Tobias spun to her, bowing crisply.

"Her Highness requests your presence in your father's study Princess."

Anna's jaw dropped. Marius smiled. Victory had never felt so sweet.

_Finally._

"She – I – what? Really?" Even Tobias's rumbling laugh couldn't dampen his rocketing spirit.

"Whoa! Anna, can I go with you? Please?" Stefan begged, hopping up and down.

_After all these years…_

"I understand how you feel Princess Anna." Tobias said. He didn't actually, but Marius wasn't in the mood to point that out. "If you need me to escort you, I'd be honored –"

"I believe that's my job _Lieutenant_."Marius interrupted. _Don't push it Werner. You're already on very thin ice. _"You, I think, should return your post." _Before I wring your neck._ He finished silently. Holding his icy glare for a moment longer, Tobias nodded jerkily.

"Of course Captain." He replied, clipping his words and marching off. Marius watched him retreat, fully aware at the daggers he kept stored in either boot. Too bad Tobias was second-best, after him. Completely loyal as well. If only he didn't despise the ground he walked on.

"Marius?" Her hands gripped his, squeezing tight as her face shined with inner light, Anna gushed. "What are you waiting for? El – Princess Elsa's has specifically requested to see us! We have to go – we need to go! Come on!"

Grasping the crook of his arm, Stefan twiggy arms strained as he pulled.

_Elsa_. What was wrong with him? Suddenly cold, clammy, hot, sweltering. He'd been thinking, dreaming about their reunion for years. So why…?

_Get it together man._

"Right you are love." Shouldering Stefan, returning Anna's grip, they started off, at first walking, jogging, running.

_Elsa. _

_Better prepare yourself love. Cuz one heck of a hurricane is coming your way._

[A/N: Well that went a whole lot faster than I thought it would take. Longer too. But I pulled it off in record time. *Jumps up and down, cheering*Oh Marius, you beautiful human being. *Fans face* I think I'm overheating. I really hope you guys enjoyed him. He makes me laugh. Anywho, I need to cover some stuff I totally forgot to mention in my last author's note. 1)Oleanna, the song Anna was singing in Ch.2 is actually a real Norwegian folksong. Don't YouTube it unless you want it stuck in your head forever. 2)The passage Elsa was quoting in Ch.1 is from "Snow White and Rose Red," one of my favorite from Grimm's and because it fits in so well… can't say much, but you may or may not want to be on the look out for other Grimm references (pun intended). Just saying. Now, what else. Oh yes. DunBroch. Crossover? Perhaps. We shall see my friends. We shall see. Oh the plans I have.

Last but not least, thank you so much WinterKnight2104 and My Lord Doctor6735 for your comments. You guys are so nice! I'm glad you enjoyed my version of Anna. And specifically to WinterKnight2104: You have bird? That's so cool! What's the name in Vietnamese? Azalea is actually short for the Baroness Azalea Noël (cuz we got her round Christmas time). Why the long name? Not sure. All my pets ended up with long titled names. That's my family for you. Anyways, a Happy New Year to you too!

And for the rest of you, thanks for viewing, please review (though critics would be helpful) and hope you had a lovely New Year. Roger that. Over and out]


	5. Chapter 4: Beware the Ides of March

Chapter Four: Beware the Ides of March

He stands, cloak drawn, cowl high,

Over the crest of his obscured and shadowed face.

The fjord takes a breath. A salty breeze rolls over his shoulders, warm and cold. The cold. The cold. How he's searched for the cold.

Across the fjord chapel bells burst into song. The people holler, children shrill. Arendelle celebrates.

T'is coronation day. A starving kingdom rejoices.

A raven squawks, alighting to a post. He spares it a glance. It sits there, fat and ugly, for the majority of a minute. Then its beady eyes bulge, beak parted in a soundless cry. It crumples, falling down down down. Flopping to a bed of dried pine needles.

Still.

He smiles, danger lurking, treachery there,

In the misshapen curl of his chapped and peeling lips.

"Portia." Hair shrouds her face; robes shroud her body.

"The others?" Her voice at his ear, more hiss than vocal. Hovering at his shoulder, more wraith than human.

"You are the first to arrive, my dear."

"Pity. I've always enjoyed an audience." She cocks her head to the side and flings out her arm and the raven twitches. A shudder running through its body. Rising to its feet. Up, up, up. Hopping. Darting to her outstretched hand, moves jerky at first, then smooth as oil. Displaying only one anomaly, or two rather.

Its eyes are white as paste.

She runs her ashen fingers across his glossy feathers. "Isn't that right, my dearest Mortuus?" The raven caws softly, nuzzling into her touch. "Now go be a good boy and do as your mistress asks." The raven rises with the wind, soundless. A patch of shadow as it flies towards the far peaks of the castle.

For t'is coronation day. And a princess must be guarded.

They wait, forest hushed, time suspended,

By the power held in his knurled and swollen hands.

How he knows the whims of time.

He knows the minutes that pass before a boy, fresh on the cusp of manhood, and a blacksmith emerge from the trees rimming the fjord. Portia stiffens, drawing her hood, but he merely nods. What's there to fear? He knows he won't fail.

"Ah, Young Cato. Lucius. Good to see you. Report, if you will."

"Brutus." Lucius, stone-faced lifts an iron fist to his chest, bowing. "Our men are in position and your informant –"

"Friend." Brutus interjects, "I've never liked the word informant. Far too serious for me."

Lucius amends his oversight, "Your _friend_ claims to have hidden the key."

"We'll need Metellus for that then." Brutus chuckles at his friend's futile efforts to remain a mystery. "Continue."

"They will tell us the final piece of information when we infiltrate –"

"Now, now Lucius. Infiltrate is hardly appropriate. When we go to pay the new queen our proper respects. Rumor has it she's the fairest maiden in these lands. We must see for ourselves, see if the squabbling of the common folk is accurate."

"As you said sir. After thus we shall receive the final information."

"I don't like it," the boy suddenly spits. "This_ friend _sounds like one too many equations. We should remove it. _I_ should remove it." His conviction is moving, even though it isn't aimed toward the task at hand. The leader of the four holds up a placating hand.

"Peace Young Cato. It's all part of the plan. You'll have your chance to wreck chaos soon enough, but my friend remains untouched." Growling, the youth glares for a full second, an unstable variable, before dipping his head in compliance.

"As you wish M' Lord Brutus."

"Please, just Brutus. I find titles of any sort deplorable."

Again, they wait, idle chatter a luxury they do not choose to partake in.

After all, t'is coronation day. A plan must be completed to perfection.

On schedule, their last comes, strolling casually, whistling merrily,

As though on a jaunty walk through the wood.

"Did I miss anything?" He inquires cheerfully.

"Just a kind word from our friend." Brutus replies, relating the news.

And they move out.

He walks, again alone, not for long,

Kneeling down to hand thin children glassy candies. Miniature, delicate, intricate fruits. They accept with greedy fingers. Soon their cheeks are bulging and their eyes sparkling. Personally, his favorite are the apples. These he keeps for himself. A treat.

For today's the day.

Ah, yes, t'is coronation day.

A day of hope.

A day of despair.

The day Arendelle gains,

And loses its queen.

[A/N: Aye friends. It's short. But the ch. I was working on is only half-finished so if this one wasn't posted you'd have waited 2 weeks for an update, and we couldn't have that. Anyway, I should probably give credit to Shakespeare's Julius Caesar for the Ides of March reference. To RaddaRada, forgive me! I swear I didn't know. That dastardly extra o! I am shamed. But just hold on a bit. The smolder is coming. To WinterKinght2104, thanks for your continued support and friendship and I'm glad you like my dear Marius just as much as I do. As always dear readers, reviews, critics, and suggestions are most welcome :)]


	6. Chapter 5: Putting On A Show

Chapter Five: Putting on a Show

Cold drilled into the music box and pewter candlestick, gossamer threads of frost advancing over the freezing metals. Her fingers flinched, knifing a jagged shard of ice into the pewter as easily as fingers into wax. It took every ounce of Elsa's willpower not to throw them away. So she only tightened her grip.

Reddened knuckles white.

Whitened skin ashen.

From his alcove, nestled into one of her new, inky black gloves, Rupert squeaked, alerting her that the experiment had failed.

"I know." She muttered, watching him fluff up his fur until he resembled a snowball, protecting himself from the chill radiating out from her exposed flesh.

Ever the fool.

Ever the ally.

How could she leave him when the time came to enter the chapel? It was hardly appropriate for the queen to tote her so-called pet around everywhere she went, especially when such an animal caused the noble ladies to stricken with horror. Sensitive as he was, Rupert wouldn't take it well, likely feel snubbed and neglected. For the last seven years their late mornings and noontides had been set aside for just the two of them. For singing and watercolors. Paint held him captive, as he following the pastel hues rippling across starched paper. Swaying as he listened to her hum, offering an occasional whistle when he felt moved.

Singing didn't accompany her work these days like it had in the past. It reminded her too much of Mother, who used to sing her lullabies when she'd still been a child, selfish, too selfish to push her parents away. Still too weak and in need of that loving touch to stroke her hair whenever she cried herself to sleep, crushed by the voices outside her door.

Elsa blinked, a cobweb of tears clinging to her lashes. She raised her sleeve to scrub them away, but stopped, remembering the careful strokes of lavender and periwinkle powdered across her lids.

Shoving the memory away, she looked up at the portrait.

Father surveyed his study, mirroring her stance, but so much more capable, light, olive green eyes noble and brave.

Bold and fearless.

"I'm sorry," she croaked out, "I've tried so hard to make you proud, but don't you see Father? I can't. I'm not strong enough to be the queen Arendelle needs."

Pressing her lips together, Elsa dropped her beseeching gaze and drew in a breath through her nose, holding it, pale eyes fluttering between the ruined candlestick and the still intact box. When her lungs began to protest she released the stale air.

"Conceal Elsa. By whatever means necessary. One wrong move, one slip up, and everyone knows. _Focus_." Her long lashes brushed her cheeks as her eyes drifted shut, shutting herself away if only for a moment, anything to dampen the fear and apprehension.

"Your Highness?" Cringing, inhaling sharply, shoulders drawn around her neck like the high, mink-trimmed collar of her burgundy coronation robe.

The makeshift scepter and orb were stashed under the puddle of sage curtains, the music box disappeared into a spare drawer.

Rupert was sent to hide. The leather armchair looming at Father's desk dwarfed her when she sank into it a second later, knees knocking, the intricately embroidered hem of her gown tucked around the legs. She pulled the long gloves to her elbows, the leather clashing with the light-catching satin brocade of the long ebony sleeves. Off-handedly she was disappointed that they didn't go as well as she thought. Instead her arms appeared to have been dipped in pitch.

_Ridiculous. Concerned with fashion while half the kingdom is on the brink of starvation. Of all the selfish things to think._

"Your Highness?"

"Y-yes." Her voice was more breath than air and clearing her throat, Elsa spoke louder. "Yes, Kai. What is it?"

"Princess Anna is waiting at the end of the hall just like you asked. Captain Thorn is with her of course, and also little Stefan Himmler. Is he allowed access as well ma'am?"

_So soon?!_ The tiny gift, wrapped in a scrap of woolen magenta cloth left over from another gift, a birthday gift, from so long ago, lay inconspicuous on the desk hidden by stacks of books on every subject.

Elsa had thought she'd have time to prepare, to build up the defenses around her carefully constructed walls. She saw them clearly in her mind. Icy and unbreakable.

But…just to talk them. To see them unhindered by glass. To feel the warmth of their embrace –

No.

_Not that. Never that._

Her heart ached with longing, but her head told her to forget. The part of her that wished the trolls had stripped her memories. Then maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to control the magic.

"Yes. Permission granted." The words left her tongue terse, static. Then,

"Wait."

"Your Highness?" Kai questioned, ever patient.

She was a coward, but she couldn't do it. Couldn't return Marius's banter with cold dismissal without a small part of her breaking, crumbling. Not yet. But if she had a moment to compose herself, she could remove herself, bury all emotion so deep down it couldn't resurface…

"Just Anna for now Kai. Please."

"Of course Princess. I'll tell them right away."

_No. Take all the time you need. Every last second._ But it would have been a show of indecision if she repeated her thoughts allowed, and weakness if she told him not to bring them at all. Two attributes never to be seen in a ruler.

Lacing her fingers together, Elsa commanded her hands to cease their shaking and was, as always, unsuccessful. Unable to find anything else to occupy her thoughts with, she skimmed the details of Father's study, hesitating on the familiar chess set, stranded in time, the white queen standing tall and alone in the midst of the checkered board.

He'd taught her how to play shortly after she'd been separated from the world, using the strategy game to tutor her in history, geography, politics, diplomacy, trade, economics, war. The list continued far past those topics, catalogued in her mind like a well-run library. Each chess piece represented a different character, each square a city, a province, a kingdom.

"Wait – just me? Can't Marius and Stefan come?" Elsa swallowed as her throat constricted, touched by that slight tremor in the bubbly voice of her sister. Could it be that she, Anna, ever the dauntless adventurer, was just as nervous as she was?

"Your sister asked specifically for you ma'am. I'm sure the others won't mind waiting a few extra minutes." Kai reassured her, and Elsa could almost see his wide, open face, somewhat crinkled with middle age, hand rested on Anna shoulder, guiding her along.

"I mean, if El – _Princess_ Elsa says so." For the first time she felt the burden of her title. She was Elsa. Not Princess. Not Your Highness, Majesty, Queen.

Just Elsa. Simply Elsa. It was all she ever wanted.

"I mean, are you sure? I don't think–"

"Anna, come _on._" Stefan grumbled. "I wanna see the Princess and we can't if you don't. Hurry up."

"Aye, he's right. You're stalling love."

The temperature in the room fell a few degrees.

_Breathe Elsa, breathe. Now's not the time to fall apart. Get it together. Now._

Accent faint, words smooth as melted chocolate, she remembered Marius's voice perfectly. Eleven years and still unforgettable. What she hadn't accounted for though was how deep it had become. Low and lilting and holding the beginnings of a laugh. Her heart winced.

"Okay, okay. I'm going." Anna said, sounding harried. Elsa drew her hands into her lap, twisting them together until she was sure she'd managed to cut off circulation.

"I believe knocking would help." Marius suggested. Her lips twitched. "What are you waiting for?"

"Stop rushing me. I got this. I totally got this."

"Annnnnnnaaaa." The boy whined.

"Should I announce you ma'am?"

"Me? No. No, it's fine Kai – wait, why are you calling me ma'am?"

"Just showing my proper respects for Her Highness."

In her head, the portly steward bowed at the waist, coat tails and collar starched and brass buttons polished. He'd always taken such pride in his work, and despite her distance, Elsa had always regarded him more as a beloved uncle than a servant.

"But –"

"Anna, darling, the door." Marius reminded her. Amused exasperation laced his tone, reminding Elsa of two siblings bickering good-naturedly. Could she have had that if–?

"Right!"

A second passed, silent and stretched.

Tap! Tap tap tap-tap tap!

"Elsa? I mean – Your Highness? I'm here." Unaware she'd been holding her breath, Elsa tried to speak, coughed, coughed again, swallowed.

_Breathe._

"E-Elsa?" Her name shook when Anna spoke it again. She wanted to turn in on herself, hide away. It was exactly as it was the day their parents were buried; a vulnerable fifteen-year-old girl and her uncompromising older sister.

Elsa sighed.

_ Heaven help me._ As a girl, she'd been religious. Clinging to the promises her Bible whispered had been easier then. She would pretend that God really listened to her childish prayers and he sent beautiful angels to guard her. That someone out there truly cared about her. And maybe one day he'd take away this hellish curse.

But with her parents revulsion, not spoken, never spoken, but in their fearful eyes, she'd realized she'd been mistaken. God, if he was there, and now she'd begun to doubt his presence, couldn't possibly love her. No doubt he too was repulsed.

For she was wicked. And the wicked didn't go unpunished for very long.

And yet, today, she needed all the assistance she could get.

Would God listen to her?

"P-please come in."

* * *

At Elsa's words, said warm and soft with just a bit of a rasp, Anna froze up – well not really froze up, obviously – it was summertime so she couldn't really freeze. Honestly, was it just her, or was the hallway really warm? Her fingers stilled on the door knob. Would Elsa shut her out again? Turn away when she needed her most? A gloved hand took hers and surprised, she looked up at Marius, biting her lip. Nodding like he understood – which he probably did. He was in the same position, only more confident –way way way more confident – than she was.

"Give us a moment." He told a curious Stefan and a concerned Kai as he led her a couple feet away.

"Anna." Marius said quietly enough to avoid Stefan's eavesdropping – though that was possibly because Kai, his mother's sister's husband – er…his uncle actually – held him back by the back of his baggy shirt, ignoring his wriggling. Marius bent down –much to her long-suffering frustration she only came to his shoulder – so he could look her in the eye. His twinkled. She wasn't sure what hers did.

"Maybe I'm not the best guy to give you advice, but I'm guessing Elsa's just as nervous as you are. Just be yourself." Smiling his crooked grin, he teased, tapping her nose. "Won me over all those years ago."

A tentative smile spread across Anna's face. Somehow, Marius always knew the right thing to say – well, when he wasn't flirting with anything in a skirt, that is.

"Okay. I can do this."

He clucked her under the chin.

"That's the spirit love."

Anna squared her shoulders, lifting her chin, and strode to the door.

Cheerful. She would be herself, her cheery, rambling, optimistic self. Knowing there was no more putting off the inevitable. Either she talked to Elsa at the ball tonight, surrounded by wonderful, but distracting people, all vying for her sister's attention, or she took this chance and saw her sister for the first time in so long.

For the first time in forever.

_Uh God? Or Jesus? Er…Holy Ghost-Spirit-person? Do you answer to all three? Oh I don't know. God-Jesus-Holy-Spirit-Ghost, if you're there… I could little help right now. You know with Elsa and Marius and Kristoff and Iulia and everybody. If you're not busy, and I know you're probably busy, but if you have the time – and don't do it just because I'm a princess – it'd be really nice if you helped me right now. Um, sorry for bothering you. I'm going now. Uh, bye!_

After her impromptu prayer she felt a little better.

All that was left was to turn the knob and push.

* * *

Though Elsa knew it had only been a minute and fifty-six seconds because she counted the grandfather clock one steady tick-tock after another, the silence pressed down on her ears.

Folding her arms across the desk, she resisted burying her face in her hands, instead resting her chin on her forearms, staring at the whirling patterns in the vanished word.

The worst part was she couldn't blame Anna if –

"Elsa?" Her head snapped up, spine rigid, hands burrowing in the voluminous folds of her dark teal skirts.

A pretty girl with a burst of strawberry-blonde braided and pinned up in an elaborate bun stood with her back towards the desk, pulling the door shut behind her.

She was shorter than she expected, but petite and slim. Freckles sprinkled her dimpled shoulders, trailing over her fair skin down across her shoulder blades, bringing to mind stars in a clear night sky.

Elsa rose a little in her chair, lips pressed tight in a faint smile, willing her to look up.

_Please. Trust me. _A fine thing to be asking for if she wouldn't, couldn't return the favor.

"I'm here." Anna told the door, then spun, green skirt swishing around her ankles.

Elsa suddenly found the streak of platinum pulled back from her temple and striping the twisted bun like a peppermint stick.

Her smile faltered.

_One wrong move…_

"I'm back."

Her large round eyes, flecks of green turning them the shade of turquoise, widened so that resembled saucers.

Her jaw unhinged.

"E-E-Elsa?" She whispered.

* * *

A stranger, a woman, was sitting in Papa's armchair, posture so straight Anna didn't think she'd need the backing of the chair to remain so poised. Her skin was white as snow, shadowed only by high, sloping cheekbones; flawless and healthy, unlike her own that still broke out with blemishes. Her irises were pale, the color of winter skies, but with definite hints of silver around her pupils. Her lips were red as rubies.

She was the most beautiful human being Anna had ever seen.

But, because she was her, the first thought through Anna's head was thathair was supposed to darken when a person 's light blonde had become the color of toasted bread – a tribute to Gerda maybe. Marius's tawny had become closer to dark brown due to training outside in the hot sun. Even hers had been light when she was a toddling little girl, more gold and less red.

But with this strange woman, it seemed the very opposite had happened. Anna could have sworn they'd shared the same golden highlights once, hers obviously much lighter but still. For Elsa's hair was pure white, even more so when offset with her sable and teal dress. Side bangs loose, mirroring her own, silky waves swept up into a full twist starting from her temples, the style was unmistakable.

Wearing her hair like that, Elsa looked so much like Mama, it almost hurt to look at her.

Anna had hoped, dreamed when she was small that one day she could look like her beloved older sister. Now she understood that there was no hope for that.

_Once a spare, always a spare,_ jeered a nasty voice in her head. Perhaps this was why Elsa had shut her out. Because she wasn't good enough for her. She'd never be good enough for her.

_Stop it! _Anna begged. _You're jumping to conclusions! Maybe…maybe… uh, she thought you would hate her for being the prettiest! _Her mind grappled for the explanation._ Like in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. She was just, just – well l don't know._

Optimism, optimism, she needed to find her stubborn bit of optimism.

Her plan!

Right, her plan would move along so much more easily now! Iulia had better watch out and keep her claws – she'd seen those manicured nails of hers do serious damage – off Marius. Oh boy, she was going down.

_Hallelujah Elsa! Where you've been all my life – right… oh forget it._

Iulia was beautiful, but she was only beautiful in a way that made people notice her when she walked into a room – and hopefully, _hopefully_ by then they were put off by her attitude after that, though Anna was beginning to realize most men were usually too distracted by the cut of her dress (honestly, did the girl have no shame?) to care too much about what was coming out of her mouth.

But Elsa was beautiful in a way that drew people in like moths to an open flame – a gorgeous metaphor…simile? Thing. If she did say so herself – and compelled them to stare longer, unable to peel their attention aware for fear she'd disappear.

Anna realized she'd been staring and she dropped her gaze, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, swallowing loudly, and fiddling with her sleeves.

Oh, why did she have to be so awkward? Especially when Elsa was so calm and perfect? If Marius was here, he'd have already struck up a riveting conversation. But if she started saying something – what was she supposed to say anyway? – she'd probably end up babbling.

_Just be yourself…_ Anna glanced towards her, glanced away, nibbled on her lip, clasped her hands.

Opened her mouth.

"Um."

_Charming Anna. _

* * *

"Hi." A single, whispered word. She couldn't seem manage more than that. Anna's startled gasp, her little flinch brought a jab of doubt, but she kept up what she hoped was a welcoming smile. Looking at her now, drawing closer, Anna gestured towards herself, peering around the room.

"Hi…Hi me?" She stammered. Elsa felt crinkles form around her mouth as she nodded encouragingly. Anna blinked rapidly, awed, before frowning.

"Oh! Well obviously you mean me. I'm the only one here, Besides you uh – um…hi?" Said like she was merely attempting the word, a flush passed over Anna's cheeks and she stared at her shoes, hunching her shoulders.

"You look beautiful." Elsa said sweetly, rising from her seat, but keeping the desk between them. It was true. Anna was much prettier than she was. Bright and fresh instead for weary and worn.

"Really?" Shyly, Anna swished her skirts, showing off her regalia. She beamed. "Thanks you – You look beautifuller!" A soft giggle escaped, and Elsa pressed the lips of her fingers to her lips.

"No, no! Wait, sorry. Not fuller. You don't look fuller." Embarrassed, Anna's hands flailed, tumbling over each other. Nose scrunching, she rolled her eyes. "I mean considering all the chocolate we ate when we were children, one of us should be – ah… well, Gerda says you haven't eaten anything she sends you so –"

Elsa's studied the white queen. "Did she?"

Pupils huge, Anna's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my gosh! Sorry! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that! It just sort of slipped out and I know I should work on that and I'm trying but –"

"Anna. It's okay." Shoulders lifting as though it didn't matter when it did, Elsa shook her head, feigning indifference. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Oh good." Anna breathed, picking at her sleeve. "I meant you look more beautiful by the way. You're so beautiful Elsa. You look just like Mama. I mean except for your hair. But that's really pretty too."

Elsa was almost certain she was blushing, though her cheeks didn't warm.

"Thank you."

Rocking on her heels, Anna didn't seem to know what to say. Then something caught her attention and she pointed to a pile of wrapped packages near the settee that Elsa had, conveniently been too busy to unwrap.

"What are those?!" Her sister asked, skipping over to investigate.

"Oh. Those are coronation gifts from the other kingdoms. It's tradition."

"There's so many!" Experimentally scooping up a large box, wrapped in orange and white paper, Anna gave it a shake. "It's like Christmastime! But in the middle of summer. Have you opened any yet?"

Hesitating for a few seconds, Elsa joined her.

"No. I haven't had time with all the preparations."

Anna glanced over her shoulder and startled seeing her so close, but smiled easily. Regarding the present thoughtfully she readjusted her hold and shoved the present in Elsa's direction.

"Here, open it."

A closer glance at the paper confirmed its giver and she shuddered inwardly at the polished design of wavering serpents wound around an apple.

Karlskrona's coat of arms.

"N-not this one." Elsa murmured, reaching for a much smaller spherical package wrapped in deep violet and bearing a stylized golden sun. "Perhaps this one from Uncle Holger–"

"But this one's the biggest and I want to see what it is." Anna insisted. "Pleeaaassse?" At her begging, it was impossible to refuse. She'd denied her sister so much already.

"Alright." She sat on the edge of the settee and let Anna hand her the present before she bounced down next to her.

"Open it Elsa!"

_"Open it Elsa!" The little girl shrieked, tugging on her arm. She smiled at the messily wrapped Christmas present, tearing the pretty paper away as her sister clapped her hands with glee and –_

Anna's shoulder jostled against hers and Elsa jumped, skirting away. A cold draft flurried through the study. The girl shivered.

"Are…are you okay?" Tentatively, Anna scooted closer, imploring.

"Yes. Of course." Forcing a smile Elsa shifted so that she was turned towards her sister, extending the present. "Do … do you want to help me open it?"

"Really?" Almost squealing, Anna caught the end of the package before gravity brought it down. "Can I?"

"It could be a tradition." Elsa replied, now actually smiling. "On the count of three alright?"

"Okay!"

When was the last time she'd done something this…well, fun? "O-one."

Fingers burying along the seams, Anna readied to tear. "Two."

"Three." The sounds of ripping filled the room, followed by Anna throwing off the top of the box, orange paper drifting to the floor.

"Anna, please, the maid's just –"

Her words fell to silence. Anna's face went blank as she pulled the offensive…_thing_. Yards and yards of bright tangerine satin and lace, flounced and frilly with a plunging neckline and wide hips and the largest bustle Elsa had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon.

"It's…hideous." She whispered, staring at the gaudy topaz beads that made up the majority of the bodice.

"What. Is. This?!" Anna exclaimed and snatched the dress up, stepping into overlarge costume and tugged it up to her shoulders, looping her arms through the puffy sleeves.

"Anna, what are you –?"

"Ooooh, oh la la! My _'_ips are 'ere," she swished her hips to the right, "my 'ips are zhere," she swayed to the left, throwing herself off balance, bouncing into the Father's desk and rebounding. She stumbled before she caught herself.

"Oh! Oh my!" Throwing her hands up in the air, she pantomimed giving someone two kisses on each cheek. "Pardonzeemy behind young man. Didn't mean to knock 'oo down! Now do 'oo like my new dress? Eezn't eet zee most be-yoo-ziful zing 'oo ever zeen?" Anna sashayed back to the settee, sticking her nose in the air. "Why I can barely fit zrough the doorway! Zeeze Arendelleze prinzezzez are zo tiny!"

A burbling noise escaped, and for the first time in a long time, Elsa really truly laughed. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, pressing her fingers to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her giggles.

"It's just a gift." She chuckled, pulling out a matching wide-brimmed hat sporting a cage of stuffed orange birds and flopping it onto Anna's head. It sank over her eyes.

"From whom?" Anna adjusted the hat, laughing. "It looks like a mutated pumpkin or something. With circling vultures overhead." She made a terrified face and cowered when she looked upward.

"Evidently one of the bigger counties." Anna snickered. "Look at the paper it came in." Elsa scooped up a scrap of paper, flipping it over to show Anna the insignia. She peered closely at it, brows drawn. "See? The apple and snake is Karlskrona coat-of-arms."

"Karlskrona? Like in the wars? Why would they be sending you presents?"

"Our peace treaty. We have to acknowledge the ruler of each kingdom when they're crowned." She replied carefully, balling the rest of the wrapping and setting it on the cushion beside her. The real reason for such an extravagant gift was far more intimate than she could admit. This was a show of their wealth, of what marriage to Prince Lennart would mean. The Southern Isles had sent a gift as well, but like the others, it remained unwrapped.

It would remain that way.

"So does this mean they're coming?" Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Anna pulled the costume off, leaving it in a pile on the carpet, fixing her hair. When a strand came loose, Elsa had to dig her fingers into her palms to keep herself from smoothing it for her.

"Yes. Prince Lennart and his sister, Princess Hildegarde –" Anna snickered again.

"_Hildegarde?_" Old-fashioned and distinctly Nordic in origin, even Elsa had to pity the Swedish princess for possessing such a mouth full of a name, but Anna wasn't taking this seriously. How could she not realize the precariously position they held with their once enemy?

"Yes, Hildegarde."

"That's so great! It's fantastic! Wait til I tell Kristoff –"

"You will do no such thing." Elsa replied calmly. "I expect you to refrain from laughing when you're introduced. Heaven knows what they'll do if they decide to feel offended. So please behave yourself."

"Yes Mother," her sister replied, still giggling. "I'll be on my very, _very_ best behavior." Elsa sighed with no small amount of frustration. It was absolutely vital that Anna understood. If insulted, Prince Lennart could very well declare war. Or… she didn't want to consider the or.

"Anna, listen to me. Prince Lennart and his sister _will _be treated with the utmost respect." She rubbed her temples, her head beginning to throb. "For just this once I need you to act your age. You have a good head on your shoulders. Would it be so hard to use it?"

Stefan yelled from some distance away, through neither paid him mind. Frustration. Her sister's eyes were so readable, like those of an open book. Her own were expressionless, just as she'd trained them to be.

"Oh I don't know," Anna finally broke the silence, muttering under her breath; petulant. "Would it be so hard for you to lighten up and have a heart?" Pouting, she crossed her arms.

Elsa stiffened as though she'd been struck. Frozen granules crystallized beneath her gloves. Unable to hold Anna's searching gaze, she walked wordlessly to Father's desk, brushing her edge with her gloves, plucking up the present meant solely for the girl behind her.

"It's complicated." She said it so softly, she was sure Anna couldn't hear her, so she was mildly taken aback when Anna whispered,

"Well…it-it doesn't have to be." From her peripherals, she watched her sister fretfully play with the forest green lace on her gown.

"Never mind that." Elsa glanced down, smiled gently. "I…I have something for you."

"Huh?"

Cupping her hands, Elsa held it out to Anna. "Here."

A beat.

"You got me a present?" It could have been a trick of the sunlight refracting off the glass instruments in the study, but she was almost certain she saw tears glistening in the girl's eyes. Immediately her defenses redoubled. Tears made her uncomfortable.

"It's a coronation custom." She said primly enough to starve off the emotions, drawing her shoulders high. "Now this means a lot to me so I need – I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously."

Swiping her eyes, the rising sun in her smile, Anna gushed.

"You love me. You really really really love me!" She came forward with her arms outstretched.

So close.

_Too close!_

Ice shot from her shoulders, barreling down her spine and Elsa recoiled from her sister's touch, spinning away.

"Oh, forget it."

"No! Wait! Give it to me!" Arms floundered over her shoulders, reaching. Hands latched onto her forearms, pulling.

"Anna, stop please!" The chill in her bones flared out. Anna grasped her wrists, determined. "Get off me –"

"Oh my gosh, your hands are so cold –"

Panicked, Elsa ripped herself away, stumbling for her feet.

"Stop touching me!"

At her panicked yelp, Anna flew back, smacking her hip against Father's chair.

For a long, long moment, silence once again hung between them and they just stared, eyes riveted to the woman neither of them knew anymore. Something was stuck in Elsa's throat and she couldn't speak. Couldn't explain. Arms encircling her waist, hugging herself tightly and resting her chin on her chest.

"I can't – I just don't like people touching me." Disgust. Disgust at her own vulnerability, while she pretended she only noticed Anna's. "I'm not used to it."

_I'm sorry. Say you're sorry. _Two simple words, stuck in the something in her throat that refused to be said.

"No." Anna regained her footing, lifting her arms. "You don't like to be touched. It's my fault."

She had nothing to express her gratitude, only to hand her the present. If only she could be as selfless.

"Your present." She whispered. Anna accepted it, holding it as through it could shatter if she wasn't careful.

"Thank you."

* * *

Unlike Karls-stupid-krona's present, Anna opened this one with care, gently tugging the length of light blue ribbon from the magenta wool – wait, she recognized that wool. Her blankie, her winter cloak…was it? Had _Elsa_ been behind all of it? No, it couldn't be – but what if?

_Stop it Anna. Speculating always gets you in trouble. It's just a coincidence. Right._

The wool unfolded like a dumping – a weird metaphor-simile-thing- but still – and her mouth parted in amazement as she pulled out the two strands of black velveteen ribbon; suspended between was a small, circular pendant of gold embossed with a crocus.

* * *

_"Mama, mama!" The child laughed, sausage fingers reaching for the dangling sparkly necklace. "Wanna see!"_

* * *

She was more than a bit embarrassed at her weepiness – was that even a word?

"Oh Elsa, Mama's necklace?" Her sister, her idol, really wanted to give her this? "I can't – I can't take this."

Elsa smiled, not-smiled. She had a way of doing it like she wanted to, but couldn't. It was sad. Like sometimes she forgot how.

"Anna, it's tradition." Sounding every bit the queen, as per usual – maybe she was making up the forgetting bit. Elsa probably never forgot anything. "It's been passed down for generations. Please, I want you to have it. Mother would have wanted you to have it." Anna was grinning so hard it hurt.

"I don't know what to say. It's so beautiful." With a laugh, she rolled her eyes. "You know I'll lose it for sure." Even though such a fate was imminent, she attempted to tie it around her neck. A little piece of Mama. She liked that.

"Here let me." Elsa offered, when Anna failed to tie the dastardly thing, taking the ribbons without coming into contact. Odd. Or maybe not. Careful, shaking –why did her sister shake so much? – she gently lifted the pendant to Anna's throat. It settled between her collar bones like…like – oh botheration, she wasn't a poet after all.

Tying the black ribbon, Elsa continued weakly. "She wore it when she married father. It was his wedding gift to her. I just thought…when you meet the man you want to wed – I thought you would want her close to you." She waved her hands, flustered. "Oh, never mind –"

"Elsa." Anna interrupted her, pressing her palms to her heart. "Thank you. Though, actually…"

"What? Is something wrong?"

Her plan! It must begin. Oh, yes, it would definitely begin.

_Kay God-Jesus – erm, just God. Or should I call you Mr. God? I don't know. Uh, help? Please._

"It's just… You sure you don't want it for yourself?"

* * *

"I –I'm sorry?" Elsa questioned, utterly confused. Casually plopping down in Father's chair, Anna interlaced her fingers, resting her chin upon them.

"Don't you want it when you meet the man you want to marry?" She smirked. "Considering you're all for tradition and rules and all."

A prickling heat spread throughout her stomach, one that her abilities didn't try to curb. "Anna, there's no one I want to marry and I don't expect it to change soon." Head bowed, she retreated to the window, knowing if Anna caught the fleeting expression…

Flocks of Arendellise citizens swarmed over the stone bridge leading to the castle, dressed in their finest. Talking with Anna had numbed her fear. Now it returned full force.

_One wrong move._

One ship in the harbor, flying blue and white colors, caught her eye. Her mouth became a desert. The Southern Isles.

_And everyone knows._

"Well…what about Marius?" Flung back to the present, Elsa knew her obvious flinch gave her away. Her father hadn't been a swearing man, though once, when he'd returned from a council meeting, he'd let one loose. That word flew through her head now.

_No, no, no._

"Mari – Captain Thorn?" Curse his misspoken name. Her wavering voice. "No. Anna, what are you talking about? That's…that's hardly appropriate. Captain Thorn is engaged to Lady Iulia. Why would you even suggest –"

The scraping of a chair and pattering footsteps told her of Anna's whereabouts. Her reflection came to life in the window, devious and sneaky.

"Riiiiiight," she drew out the word. Her smirk was back. "Cuz you definitely don't love how strong and handsome he is. Don't pretend you don't watch from your window. I've totally figured it out. Your window would give you the perfect view of the guards training circle. Where you can gaze longingly through the window pane as he skillfully swings about his shining sword." She lunged, pantomiming a fight, parrying an invisible enemy. "Shirtless! Muscles rippling in the sunlight!" Anna swooned, throwing her hand across her forehead, fluttering her lashes dreamily. "Oh Captain, my dear Captain Thorn! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!"

Images flooded her mind. Images that reminded her of what a wicked, wicked creature she was. Of sun-tanned skin, and tousled hair, and and… arms, shoulders, back, chest. Oh heaven's above! What was wrong with her?!

Gasping, cheeks flaming, Elsa desperately tried to form a protest, stammering.

"Anna! I don't- that's not even-"

But her sister wasn't finished with this new form of cruel and unusual punishment. Cackling like an evil despot, she crooned.

"Secretly wishing he'd wrapped those gorgeous, sexy, muscular arms around you and never let you go!" Anna fanned her face, grinning madly. "Just say you honestly don't dream of throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you can't breathe and perhaps I'll keep quiet."

Unwelcome, the vision filled every one of her senses, of…um…

"No! That's not –"

"You hesitated!" Anna squealed victoriously, flapping her arms and jumping up and down like a nestling. "Oh my goodness you're blushing! You're blushing, you're blushing, you're blushing!"

"Princess Elsa, permission to enter."

She closed her eyes and prayed. Really, truly prayed.

_Dear God, dear God, dear God._

For Marius Thorn was right outside the door and had likely just been privy to _every_ word that had come out of her sister's traitorous mouth.

"Hey Ellllssssa," Anna hurried towards the door and whispered, giggling with both hands clapped over her mouth. "Look who's here to sweep you off your feet."

"Anna! Be quiet." She begged, feeling lightheaded, grasping for the window ledge. "He'll hear you!"

"I knew it! You like him!" This, gracious God above, she only mouthed.

"Anna!" More mad giggling

"Princess? May I come in?" Heart fluttering a mile a minute, Elsa somehow managed to seat herself in Father's chair, much to the eternal thanks of her legs that felt as though they'd turned to a liquid substance. Like water melting from ice.

Anna's smirk. Her rocketing pulse. His voice.

_One wrong move._

"Uh, um…per-permission to enter."

[A/N: A treat my friends. A super super early post because I decided to split this into 2 parts. Goodness, I think I died multiple times writing this. Favorite chapter so far hands down. Anna, you devious little princess. Poor Elsa. The majority of the dialogue was from a screen play a friend and I wrote and also from Frozen's deleted dressing room scene, which is why this one went so quickly. FYI: The idea of Elsa making the blanket that eventually became Anna's cloak is NOT mine. I got this idea from Strangerine and their fantastic piece Lonely Days, and they so graciously let me use it. Thank you friend! Also if anybody is wondering, yes, the story will be taking a more spiritual twist than I expected. And yes, I named the king of Corona Holger after trying and failing to find his name. The queen's I found: Primrose. Last thing, sorry for any viewers of French descent who were offended by Anna's poor attempt to model your accent. It was not meant as an insult. As always review and critic. Thanks for everyone's support ]


	7. Chapter 6: Christmas in July

Chapter Six: Christmas in July

Truth be told the captain in question had not, in fact, been privy to the vast majority of the incriminating conversation; an unfortunate circumstance in his most humble opinion.

An unfortunate circumstance that could only be blamed on poor Stefan Himmler. His mother had come looking for him shortly after Anna entered the late king's study, and by the time he'd helped Kai and Disa wrangle the boy out of the hall with the help of two of his men, assured Kai that they could handle "protecting the princesses" while the ruffled steward straightened up, was stopped by a breathless messenger relaying a message from the one and only Kristoff, bid him adieu upon Marius' promise to pass it along to its rightful recipient with suspicions of magic in the air that night for a certain stableman, and shooed a raven screeching from the window, he returned with only enough time to catch the last few snippets.

Oh, but what intriguing snippets they were.

"–wishing he'd wrapped those gorgeous, sexy, muscular arms around you and never let you go! Just say you honestly don't dream of throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you can't breathe and perhaps I'll keep quiet."

Thoughts bucking, he raked a hand across his scale. _Wait, what? Since when does Elsa have a beau? _He swore under his breath. When he found out who it was…

Softer, another voice was saying something he couldn't make out. Marius turned his head towards the door.

Nothing.

He grimaced.

Glancing down the hall to make sure his men had returned to their posts and that he was alone, he squeezed his eyes shut until he found the blackness, listening.

Nothing happened.

"C'mon, work." Pressing his fingers to his temples he strained forward, moving sluggishly through his mental barriers as though they were constructed from refined steel.

_But then a lone, ill-used synapse fires in his brain, bringing with it a tingling that causes every hair, every fiber to stand on end. By now he's familiar with it._

_Amber light fills the space beneath his eyelids, but he hasn't opened his eyes. Warmth smoothes drafty air of the corridor, like purified sunlight. _

_His senses suddenly sharpen. _

_Sounds once silent blare. Thousands of thoughts not his own fill his head, buzzing like a hive of seething wasps. _

_Swimming through the thick brightness, searching, searching – he reaches for the closest pulse, a gentle turquoise accented with ribbons of silver and magenta. _

" –_that's not –"_ _His heart skips a beat, too fast and overly loud in his ears._

The connection broke and the world was quiet again. Somehow dimmer, less vibrant, less alive.

"You hesitated!" Chirping like a canary, yet still missing something he couldn't quite place, the younger princess sang out. "Oh my goodness you're blushing! You're blushing, you're blushing, you're blushing!"

Liquid fire shot through his left temple.

"Gah!" Marius grunted, lurching forwards and clutching his head. The pain moved to the base of his skull, his forehead, snaking and probing until it seemed his head would split open.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished, leaving him lightheaded. Marius stumbled, throwing his hand into the wall, chest heaving. He sucked in a breath of overheated summer, leaving his throat parched and desperate for a draught of winter.

The pain was a new development.

It wasn't supposed to hurt, this…thing he was able to control.

_Saints, what's wrong with you? Pull yourself together. _He massaged his temples, grinding his teeth. _Serves you right. Eavesdropping on the princess isn't part of your job._

Sure made it more interesting though…

Straightening, he shook himself roughly.

_That's it._ He was getting to the bottom of this mystery man._ Forgive me Your Late Majesty,_ gaze ceiling-ward his mouth plucked up in a sad smile. _Got my own sorry love life to deal with. Didn't realize I had to worry about your daughter's._

A fist to the door, Marius knocked sharply.

"Princess Elsa," Stupidly, his pulse faltered. _Come on man. Pull yourself together. _"Permission to enter."

Whispering, giggling, hissing, snickering, but he didn't try to probe again.

There was probably a better name for it, probing, but this seemed the most accurate. Wasn't like he could go around asking, broadcasting his…_talent _for all to see_._ He himself had avoided thinking over much of why he could hear things others couldn't. Or wouldn't. The Scandinavian Kingdoms of Arendelle, Karlskrona, Oulais, Nivala, and the Southern Isles were superstitious either by principle or nature, what with the Prophecy of Ragnorok having stirred up a couple of monks a few centuries back. And while he was pretty sure hearing things qualified as crazy rather than sorcery, or any other sort of Snow-Queen-Apocalypse-Doom's-Day bunk, he'd rather not invite trouble.

Though trouble always seemed to have a funny way of finding him whether he wanted it to or not.

Particularly in the form of a certain Arendellise princess.

"Uh, um…per-permission to enter." His chest constricted, hearing her. Grinning like some idiot school boy no doubt, he opened the door and strode through.

And stopped dead away.

Clearly there was something wrong with his eyes as well, because the study faded away to gray, taking with it a self-satisfied Anna, arms folded expectantly.

All that remained was her.

"Saints." He murmured under his breath as he scratched the back of his neck. Kind of disconcerting that he was actually blushing. Could it be that he was starting to lose his touch?

Doubtful. He refused to consider such a possibility.

Someone before him had probably compared a woman to an angel, her hair to spun sunlight, and her eyes to the stars sparkling above, her lips to a blossoming rose, so he was going to have to get a little more creative.

Here went nothing.

The creature sitting before him, small-framed and elegant behind the great table was from another world all together. A world where skin and hair shone like fresh snow fall and big, wide eyes glinted like crushed ice crystals. Where lips were like garnets and held him breathless.

Where he realized he was in far, way too far, over his head; drowning and welcoming his fate with open arms.

Because she wasn't pretty, a word even before this moment hadn't been worthy to describe her. She wasn't even beautiful, the word that could have been her equal, had she been common.

No. She was as radiant as the silver moon shining through the darkness of the night.

"Princess Elsa." Marius sank to his knee, crossing his right arm to his left shoulder, and bowing his head until his nose brushed his well-muscled thigh in the sign of utmost respect. Flicking a lock of tawny hair from his eyes, he ensnared her with his most winning smile, smolder at the ready.

Startled, Elsa blinked, drawing attention to her impossibly long lashes. To his pleasure, a vivid red flooded down her high cheekbones. But, to _her_ credit, she kept eye contact longer than any of the maids did.

Impressive.

"A pleasure to see you again."

"I –uh…" Teeth flashing white, they caught her lip. "T-t-the pl-pleasure's all m-mine Captain Thorn."

His grin widened.

"Captain Thorn, eh?" Marius rose, chuckling, turning to Anna. Anna, who looked as pleased as a cat in the cream. Again, the image of a wily vixen was brought to mind. She was up to something with this plan of hers and apparently had gotten whatever she'd needed accomplished. He wondered if it had anything to do with the great ball of orange fabric she was stuffing into a box near the window.

"Oh fair maiden." Sliding his gaze to Elsa's, he winked. While she seemed to be making a commendable effort to ignore him, no small feat mind you, her posture, shoulders drawn back and rigid, gave her away. "Got another message for you."

"Really?" Anna tilted a carrot-colored hat in her hands, poking experimentally at the cage of birds a top it. He didn't ask, knowing if it was important, he'd hear about it eventually. "What is it?"

Shrugging casually, he overcame the temptation to tease.

"Nothing crazy. Just that Kristoff's waiting for you in the gardens. Not sure why, but you know how impatient he gets." Whipping her head up so quickly she winced, Anna squeaked, both hopeful and timid.

"He's what?! Really?" Marius cocked a questioning brow, his unanswered question answered in full.

"Aye," he said, smirking. "He's –"

Elsa coughed quietly, effectively drawing his attention to her. She was watching Anna intently, a rare half-smile doing something fascinating to her lips and he admitted he was hardly paying attention as Anna jabbered on,

"I mean, 'course he is. Obviously. Gotta discuss that plan of mine. I'd better go – I have to go." Like a bird, she flew to the door, wiggling her fingers in farewell. "Bye Elsa. See you at your coronation. Have fun…"

"Uh, love your strudel–"

"Wait." The eldest princess starting to wise, clutching her skirts, panicked. "Anna, don't leave–"

But the door had already snapped shut, pastries entirely forgotten.

* * *

Elsa swallowed hard and very slowly lowered herself into the firm padding of the leather chair, knowing that if she'd possessed the ability to perspire, her gloves would have been soaked through and frozen over. Alone. She was alone. With _him_. Out of all the chaos of the month of July, the news of violent rebellions in the French kingdom of Toulouse, skirmishes between the English Cameleisians and Welsh Rhylans, their perilous economy, this shook her the most.

Mouth dry, she tucked her hands into her lap and discreetly peeped at M – Captain Thorn through her lashes, tracing the planes of his clean-shaven cheeks and the line of his squared jaw as it angled into his strong neck. Dark tawny hair, tousled and unkempt, gave the impression of being perpetually windblown. Thin strands of copper and bronze threaded through his thick curls, interrupted only by that swatch of pale blonde he shared with Anna and Kristoff.

Her constant reminder.

Captain Thorn abruptly shifted his gaze to hers. She froze, heart stumbling. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the deep rumble of Captain Thorn's laugh.

"She's awfully happy today." He commented, gesturing towards the door.

Elsa recalled the look of pure elation filling out her sister's dimples when Kristoff's name was mentioned. It scared her more than she could say that Anna saw the same thing in her.

"Um, y-yes. This is good for her." She murmured.

Hearing Captain Thorn's approaching footsteps, she snatched the first book in her reach, flipping it open at random and finding the neat columns of dates and numbers of her ledger.

"For you too I think." Captain Thorn said quietly, regarding her, listing his head to side. "Now granted I'd loved to keep keeping you all to myself, but I'm sure the people of Arendelle want to meet their future queen."

"W-W-what do you mean?"

Instead of answering, her bodyguard leaned across her desk, craning his neck so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes, and dashed a grin at her.

He straightened, forcing her gaze to follow him, away from the finance ledger.

"Just that it's nice to see your smile again, love. I've missed it. Improves your looks too." Captain Thorn made no point of hiding the way his eyes roamed her face, lingering pointedly on her lips in a way that made it hard to breathe. Cocking a one-sided smirk, he added. "Not of course that you need it."

_Is he…is he f-flirting with me? But – no, no Elsa. Don't be ridiculous. No, he's just…just…_

Mortified, Elsa felt her cheeks burn before the transgression was corrected and her skin was blissfully cool again, the chill clinging to the silver necklace tucked beneath her bodice, lying beside her heart. She nearly groaned aloud at her stupidity. How was she to avoid her shameful thought if his long-ago gift recorded her quickened pulse. _Foolish girl. Loony girl. _Shivering, but not from the cold she ducked her head, pretending to review the ledger though the year at the top of the page was from the year prior.

"That's hardly appropriate Captain Thorn." She said curtly.

Captain Thorn held his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax, love. It was just an innocent remark. An observation if you will."

"I hardly think–" He held up a finger, and like a well-behaved child, she silenced.

"Hungry?"

* * *

Reaching into his bulging pockets, Marius frowned slightly, finally extracting the wrapped strudel. "Thought you might want something to eat before you went to the chapel. This is Gerda at her finest." The cloth stuck as he peeled it away, caught in the honey glaze. "Now she made me promise that I would watch you eat the thing and to tell you the truth, that woman scares me. So," he uncovered the pastry with a flick of his wrist. Nabbing her shield – pardon, _her book_ –by the spine, he settled the strudel in front of her, laying the cloth beneath it. "If you would M'lady."

Elsa stared, thorn between sweeping her breakfast aside and taking a bite. Her hesitancy, her timidity, was off-putting. Almost like she was set in holding the world at arms length to protect herself, avoiding anything new for fear of scars. What he wouldn't give to wrap her in his arms and fill her with the brightness a probe showed him. Be the one to light a fire inside those eyes.

_Easy Marius._

"Here." Exaggerating patience, Marius fished out his own pastry. "If it makes it easier, I'll have one with you. Though technically I'm not allowed to eat my meal before you do, crazy rule I know, so, love, I'd appreciate it if you didn't leave me hanging." He waved the pastry around a little to make his point.

Resigned, Elsa sighed and finally tore away the edge of the strudel and cautiously bit into it. Her pretty eyes widened and she stilled, chewing slowly. Had he not been present, Marius suspected she would have moaned with delight.

"Good, ain't it?" In answer she took another bite, nodding.

"Told you." Popping a piece of still-warm, buttery, sugary, flakey goodness into his mouth, hints of lemon and cinnamon bursting on his tongue, Marius dropped into the plush chair facing Elsa's desk, surveying the study as they ate breakfast. It was cooler than the other rooms in the palace, pleasantly so and drying the perspiration on his brow. Stately bookshelves that rivaled those in the library lined the wall space save for a single window. Scientific instruments of glass caught the sun rays and refracted them in a million rainbows.

_Huh._ It was weird, the things he didn't know about King Adgar, how little he knew about the man behind the military medallions won in the Karlskro-Arendellise Wars. Marius hadn't spent much time here as a child, just a few stolen glances when Anna got into trouble and was called by her father.

Or more accurately, when _he and Kristoff_ got Anna into trouble sliding down the banisters and climbing to the roof and swimming in the fjord clad only in their undergarments. King Adgar hadn't exactly been impressed, but he was a fair, patient man and their "punishment" usually involved Gerda and the kitchens and making desserts.

Their adventures were to be short-lived. His training started shortly after the gates closed and he only left the barracks for Christmastide. Sure he saw his friends at chapel, but Sunday was the Sabbath and they whisked away from the public eye as soon as Karmichael finished his sermon. Which was rumored to be the likely cause of The Great Christmas Tree Scandal of 1781, though no one could prove it. It still raised fond smiles amongst the populace, though nine years had passed since the mysterious incident. Word on the streets was the culprits were still out there, watching, waiting to make their next move.

But something, or someone, was always missing. Curious, Marius twisted so he was looking at Elsa, pleased to find that the strudel was gone, and wanting to kiss the crumbs from her –

_Let it go man. Get over it. What's it gonna be? Your freedom or a girl you barely know anymore? They'll be other women. _

His brain nodded, approving the logic.

His heart scoffed. '_And sometimes, against all odds, against all logic, we still hope.' _

Growling, the two returned to their war.

Saints on high he was going to drive himself half-mad the rate he was going. Flirting was one thing. He could always lie, tell her he didn't really mean it. Of course he didn't mean it; he was engaged to the former most beautiful woman in Arendelle. Who wouldn't want to be him? But idealizing about taking Anna's suggestions and making them reality…would make it that much harder when he left. And he _would _be leaving.

No if, ands, or, buts about it.

He only wished it didn't make him feel like such a total cad.

* * *

As she was working her tongue around her gums, searching out any missed bits of glaze, rooting for flecks of tender apple, Elsa couldn't help but wonder what he wanted from her. Mother and Father wanted the promise of poise and grace and perfection. Parliament wanted her hands bound, easily controlled. Prince Hans, Prince Lennart…she dreaded what they really wanted.

Even Anna wanted, no, _needed _her to be something she wasn't. So Captain Thorn…what? What did _he_ want? A twinge wormed uncomfortably through her temples, the beginnings of a headache. She didn't know what to think. Bringing her breakfast was something a friend would do, was it not? Perhaps that was it.

Seeing Captain Thorn watching her, lips kinked in that infuriating smirk, Elsa startled and swiped her sticky mouth, reddening.

"You're pretty when you blush, love." This of course only served to heighten the deep rose in her cheeks though her body was growing use to the abnormality and failed to heat.

_He's just teasing, _a weak thought suggested, hopeful. _You saw him with Anna. There's nothing between them and he acts the same way as he does with you. It's just his personality. You're overreacting. Calm yourself. Control yourself._

Sure she'd turn into a hopeless puddle of stammering goo if she didn't for Elsa neatly folded the cloth and placed it on his side of the desk, peeking at him shyly. "T-thank you for breakfast. It…" she hesitated. Was it flirting to thank him for a simple act of kindness? "It was nice."

"No problem Princess. It was my pleasure." Their eyes met and held, long enough that she noticed the ring of ultramarine rimming his irises and the flecks of gold that reminded her of a shard of lapis lazuli.

_Enough Elsa. _

Clearing her throat and spying the ornate hands of the grandfather clock, she braced herself stood, a motion instantly copied by her bodyguard. Despite his… um…rather _unprofessional_ conversation, he was the epitome of royal etiquette.

"We should go. Minister Karmichael requested to speak with me before the – my coronation." Robes whispering, telling pretty little secrets, she lifted her chin and regally walked towards the door, passing close enough to the window for her heart to skitter at the sight of the packed common. At her orders, the inner gates would be open, the castle overcome –

"Speaking of which, I have a present for you." Suddenly, so close, Elsa felt the heat of his body at her back, Captain Thorn murmured low and lilting. Surprised, Elsa stumbled, steadying herself and stepping away before her bodyguard could react. She looked at him sharply.

"Y-you – what?" Captain Thorn grinned sheepishly and pulled his hand out from behind him, producing a long, flat box wrapped in silvery foil and a cobalt blue ribbon. The tissue was gorgeous, the wrapping job less so.

"Sorry 'bout how messy it looks. Mother –" An odd twinge in his expression, one she understood and made her chest hurt, before it was smothered by pure magnetism. "Had a devil of a time finding the tissue paper, but it's only the best for you, love." He held it out to her, black gloved fingers matching her own. "Just a little something from me to you." A single dimple appeared in his cheek, his grin lopsidedly irresistible. The kind that made her want to smile back.

_Take it. _He'd thought of her. Captain Thorn, the star of her fantasies, had cared enough to think of her. Ice cold, the tiny snowflake pendant pressed against her breast.

_Don't take it._ He _shouldn't_ be thinking of her. These were supposed to be for Iulia Fenrir, not anyone else, and especially not her. Iulia, the only one who should be reveling in his attention.

_Don't take it._

She bit down into her lip, hard enough to sting, and slowly shook her head.

"N-no. I can't take that. It wouldn't be proper –"

Captain Thorn snorted, not unkindly, but making no attempt to hide his evident exasperation. "Propriety be hanged. I have no one else to give it to. It's kind of specifically for _you_." He absentmindedly fingered the sloppy ribbon. "And when you find out what it is, trust me, you'll want them."

"I-uh…" Despite the endless diatribe of warnings, Elsa found herself dumbly accepting the box. Friends partook in these sorts of activities, didn't they? It was like Christmas, as Anna had put it. Christmas in July. Giving a present to celebrate a special occasion wasn't indicative of romantic…um… "Thank you."

Because she wasn't her sister, because she was scared to death and all too aware of how Captain Thorn closed the gap between them, the top of her head level with his broad shoulders, Elsa unwrapped the present slow and methodical. The dark blue ribbon was pried off and slipped over her wrist so not to make mess. She peeled the tissue away. The box beneath was simple and black, unadorned. She lifted the lid.

Her mouth parted.

_Oh Marius…_

Inside was the finest pair of gloves she could have ever imagined. Pure silk and shining pale turquoise. They were long enough to cover her elbows, embroidered with rich gold crocuses embellished with tiny dots of seed pearls and ruby gems to hem the deeply scalloped edges. Ornate, but tastefully so, simple enough to add just a touch of elegance.

They were gloves fit for a queen.

Was this a joke?

* * *

"_I've been running some experiments and I think these might be able to suppress the magic." Papa lifted the lid of the box and knelt down in front of her. Unsure, she adjusted the little half-jacket she wore over her dark blue dress and frowned when she glimpsed the flattened, empty fingers of gloves. Papa was a student of the Scientific Revolution and was always eager to run his experiments. Was she simply another project to him? Something broken in need of fixing? Excitement in his hawk-nosed profile illuminated by the glowing fire that crackled distressingly warm at her back. The child risked a hasty glance over her shoulder, making sure the flames stayed confined to their grate._

One princess shall perish to snow or to flame…

_She never kept a fire in her room, though Mama always fretted. But she liked how the cold soothed her and lulled her to sleep. And if she wore the gloves, how could she protect herself from the terrible heat? What if one night, Frigg's night, it killed her? _

_Papa reached for her tiny hands with thepair of white kid-gloves. She held them stiffly at her side._

"_Elsa –"_

_ "How do you know?" She whispered. "Maybe I can learn to control it without them. I did that before." Papa sighed and dropped his hand. Though she knew the fire extenuated the dark swatches under his eyes, she also knew he was tired. Was his sleep as troubled as hers? Was it her fault he smiled so little nowadays?_

_ "We have to try something Elsa. Your mama and I thought it would best. You want to keep your sister and your friends safe, don't you?"_

_ "Yes but –"_

_ "Then be a good girl and put on the gloves." _

* * *

It certainly seemed like a joke.

"Are you alright, Elsa?" She flinched away as Captain Thorn gently brushed her shoulder, eyes pinned like a dagger to his.

"Fine. I'm fine."

Captain Thorn nodded, rifling a hand through his hair, slipping down to rub his neck, and if Elsa hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was nervous. But that wasn't possible. "So, do you like em'?"

She wanted to tell him. How they were perfect. How silk never scratched or caused an ugly rash to color her fingers red like wool, leather, and linen.

How he was kind, and thoughtful, and –

_ Elsa._

It was not to be.

"They're exquisite." Evasive, Elsa murmured, pasting a rehearsed smile to her lips. One that Captain Thorn returned with no small amount of smug satisfaction as he swept the door aside for her and they headed down the corridor.

"I thought you'd like them."

For some time, they continued on, him carrying on with his easy compliments and heart-stopping grins and she in every appearance seeming unaffected. Wryly, as she shed the last layers of body heat to keep the flush from her skin, pleased as she caught sight of herself in a window and saw her skin was once again a sheet of ice, Elsa wondered if her parents would have been proud of this victory, small as it was. Or would they have found it eerie her inability to blush, to so easily manipulate her emotions to suit her motives. Would her illusion of perfection only emphasize the lie? The lie of a insecure child playing make believe in her mother's old dress, however well the high sable collar emphasized her lithe neck. How the fluid teal skirts nipped at her tiny waist and flared out just enough to fill in her boney hips. They hid her too-thin figure, the tattooed marks of her curse inking her shoulders and neck, her curse itself.

"Pardon me Highness. I believe I need a word with one of my subordinates." Captain Thorn said, prompting her from her ever darkening thoughts. She spared him a glance and followed his gaze to young man, another guard nervously avoiding their scrutiny as he watched the locked doors of the ballroom, frozen in a low bow.

"Oh course Captain Thorn."

Though he looked the embodiment of a proper guard, she couldn't help notice the playful twinkle in his eyes, shooting her an apologetic look coupled with another wink she pretended not to see, giving her heart an opportunity to harden once more. Bowing and spinning of his heel, he strode off towards the guard with no small amount of swagger in his jaunty step.

"Lt. Frode." He called, sounding every bit the soldier he was. For a moment she watched him, admiring the way his broad shoulders tapered into a slender waist at a perfect triangle and just how well the cut of his uniform emphasized the muscular physique beneath. Guiltily, she tore her gaze away.

_Fool. _A voice taunted. _Moon-eyed fool. Ogling a bare-chested man from your window doesn't him yours. Enough._

With their attention elsewhere, Elsa slipped into an alcove created by the drawn crimson curtains of a protruding window. Hunching she stripped her fingers of the leather, cringing as a web of frost played across her exposed skin. Quickly, the new gloves replaced the old. The relief was instantaneous, as pleasing as ice cold water across her chapped hands. Watching the miniature gemstones glittering in the sunlight, Elsa couldn't help but note how lovely the light turquoise went with her coronation gown. In secret, she was touched. His laughter, his kindness, she didn't deserve that. It was worth more to her than the gloves, beautiful as they were. But to the world stage she must be apathetic to his flirtations, mustn't lose her head. These feelings were just the remnant, excess emotions from a girl's crush, nothing more. She must understand this, like an actress understanding her lines. Her act must be perfect. She had a show to put on. And she had no choice but for it to be flawless.

Outside, on the window ledge, a raven alighted, its back to her. Disarranged feathers dull and filthy, the poor thing looked more dead than alive. As if hearing her thoughts, the creature fluttered, spearing her with its beady eyes. Cheeks blanching, Elsa drew in a horrified gasp, springing back and darting from the curtains. Hearing the commotion, Captain Thorn and Lt. Frode whirled, gripping the pummels of their swords.

"Everything alright Princess Elsa?" The boyish lieutenant asked, eyes round and wary. Her bodyguard studied her with furrowed eyebrows.

_The...the bird. It...it -_

"Y-yes." The look Captain Thorn gave her made it clear he didn't believe a word she said.

"Are you sure?"_  
_

"Yes." She nodded forcefully, gulping, casting a glance to the window. Mercifully, the terrible thing was gone. "I'm fine thank you. Please don't let me disturb you, gentlemen."

"Actually we were finished Your Highness. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"I'm sure it was justified." He crossed an arm to his shoulder.

"Thank you for your understanding Highness. Shall we head to the chapel now?" At this his eyes crinkled, his expression mischievous. Was he insinuating...

"That would be acceptable, yes, thank you."

"Excellent." Clapping his subordinate on the shoulder. "Thank you for your input Lt. I'll keep you updated should anything change."

"Yes Captain Thorn." The man mumbled. Chuckling and shaking his head, the captain returned to her side, extending his arm. "Shall we?" Nodding tightly, still shaken, but not taking his sleeve, Elsa continued down the hall. With a sigh, Captain Thorn followed.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He asked lowly. "You looked pretty upset back there. Something wrong?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine."

"Liar." Captain Thorn made to nudge her shoulder, but she hastily sidestepped him. He grinned teasingly. "You may want to consider taking lessons from me, love, because from what I hear, lying's a tradition in the high court's of Parliament, and I'm a master in the ways of deception."

"No, thank you." Hands held up in defeat, he consented.

"If you say so. But if you're ever in need of me, I'd be happy to obliged."

Elsa felt the fine hair on the back of her neck rise. A wave of fear saturated her body from head to toe, and she suddenly felt as though she was being watched. Cold expanded down her back. Glossy as caramel, Captain Thorn's voice faded into the background.

_Don't be ridiculous. The raven was likely diseased. You're overreacting. _From the corner of her darting blue eyes, she saw her bodyguard shiver. Her head throbbed.

_You're overreacting Elsa. _She repeated. _It's nothing. Nothing to fear._

But try as she may, the young queen-to-be could not seem to rid the image of the black bird, the bird with dead white eyes, from her mind.

[A/N: Because I updated this chapter, I decided to update my A/N considering the last one was me throwing a pity party. Eventually I told myself to suck it up and get over it so here we are. The magic tattoo idea is from an original story by yours truly. And our raven friend is back. Gave him a name in edited ch.4 - Mortuus (pron. more-TOO-us). Interested in its meaning? Go to Google translate and translate it from Latin. That being said Iulia is pron. YOO-lee-ah. Just in case you were wondrin'.

Anywho, to WinterKnight2104: My thanks for your constructive criticism. I have a bad habit of throwing in too many beats between speakers which I shall be working on.

And for you, my dear readers: My most heartfelt gratitude. Your support is touching and I thank you for it. If you feel so moved, please review and critic. But most importantly share ideas. I'd love to hear your thoughts.]


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